Kamikaze
by AllusionToAnIllusion
Summary: She was prepared to sacrifice, to crash and burn. At least, that's what she thought. A sequel to Out in the Open.
1. Relative Peace

**Hey, everybody! Well, this is the sequel to my story Out in the Open. I don't think you absolutely need to read that to understand this but it might help with references in future chapters. One more thing, I didn't have time to proofread this so I'm sure there are errors. Sorry about those but I need sleep. So I'll let you get to reading now...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it, I thought it was pretty obvious but if I have to state it I will.**

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Beep. Beep. Beep._ She rolled over and smacked her bedside table, hitting several different spots before the screeches stopped emanating from her clock. Immediately she pulled the covers from her body, ready for a quick shower before work. But as she rose from the warm bed she felt an arm snake around her waist, effectively pulling her back down, apparently the other person in her bed had other plans.

"Ergh," she groaned, "I have to go to work, it's Monday remember?"

"But the bed's cold when you're not here." She looked up at his face to find him making very good use of his puppy dog eyes, adding an adorable pout for good measure.

"Rick, I have work, and if you don't let me go you know what's going to happen, and you also know that I will be super late if said thing occurs." His only response was to kiss her neck, trailing his lips down until they were brushing the tops of her breasts. A soft moan escaped her as his teeth grazed her pulse point on his mouth's journey back towards her lips, damn him. She knew that he knew perfectly well that he'd won; she could feel his smirk against her skin. When his mouth finally reached hers, pulling her towards his body for a searing kiss, she couldn't resist anymore. Her hands were already trailing along his chest, quickly working their way downward. When another beeping interrupted them; only this beeping was of a much more melodic nature than the last. Reluctantly pulling away she picked up her phone, the source of said interruption, flipping it open and forcefully pressing it to her ear.

"Beckett." Her traditional greeting was said a little more harshly than needed but she couldn't really bring herself to care.

"Oh," she could hear amusement in Ryan's voice, "did I interrupt something?"

"No." She wasn't in the mood for this, offering simple answers was her way of telling him that he'd better get to the point before she kicked his ass.

"Well, we have a body." As soon as he rattled off the address and hung up Rick was back to kissing her body, everywhere. She kissed him once more before quelling her desire and lifting herself from the bed for the second time this morning. She could feel his hands try and pull her back but she was having none of it, extracting his hands from her waist she turned to look at him seriously.

"Murder calls." And with that she was off to the shower, Rick trailing hopefully behind her.

Thirty minutes later, which surprised even her after he had climbed into the shower with her, they arrived at the crime scene. An old, almost ragged apartment building stood in front of the pair as they exited the car and made their way towards the door. Entering the elevator he stood impossibly close to her, running his fingers along her shirt as his hand rested on her lower back. This was the only sort of affection she allowed at work; he was permitted to put his hand on her lower back and nowhere else. Honestly, she had grown to like his hand being placed there, it felt right. In fact, whenever it wasn't there she couldn't deny that her back felt just a little bit colder. A quiet ding alerted her to the fact that they'd arrived on the seventh floor, stepping out of the elevator she strode towards a grey door with a golden 243 printed onto it. Opening the door she caught sight of the body immediately, a slender blonde woman lying face down on the living room carpet. Lanie was already bent over the young woman, studying her head, which seemed to have been bashed in.

"What do you have for me, Lanie?" She asked as they drew closer, Lanie looked up and noticed the pair for the first time. Standing up to address the duo she began to recite her findings.

"Her name's Julie Disario, 22 years-old. Cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head, which is pretty obvious by the state of it. There aren't any signs of a struggle, so she most likely didn't even see the blow coming. She was hit in the back of her skull, suggesting her killer attacked her from behind."

"Time of death?" She asked, as Rick withdrew his hand to walk around the crime scene. Immediately she missed the contact, the warmth that his hand radiated greatly missed.

"Around six hours ago, so at about 11:30 last night. One other thing, she was a drug user, mostly likely heroine. See these marks on the underside her forearm? They're from needles. I can't tell you anything more until I get her back to the lab." Nodding she walked away from Lanie towards the other side of the room where Rick was looking through the victim's shelves.

"Find anything interesting?" She asked, as he picked up a book.

"Yeah," she could almost feel her eyes light up, "she was a fan of my work." He grinned as she smacked his arm, she could just see his ego inflating.

"Perhaps I should rephrase," she raised an eyebrow in his direction, "did you find anything pertinent to the case we're trying to solve? You know, the murder of the girl lying on her floor over there?"

"Hmm," he thought for a moment, "nope." Rolling her eyes she turned to look in the direction of footsteps coming her way, hoping that at least someone had found something.

"Hey, Beckett." Esposito was heading towards her, Ryan not far behind.

"Alright, boys," she could tell by the pride in their walk that they'd come across something of interesting," fill me in."

"She was a stripper at a local strip club called Satin, been working there for four years. Apparently she's been taking college courses online for about a month, guess she was hoping to get out of the stripper life." Esposito said before glancing at his partner, gesturing for him to take over.

"And," Ryan and Esposito exchanged looks as Ryan took over, "we've been talking to the boyfriend over there, Eli, apparently Julie ran away from her home in Massachusetts when she was sixteen. She hadn't talked to her parents since then until two months ago when her dad had called out of the blue, he'd finally found her after six years. Apparently they'd been talking regularly since then."

"Wait," she questioned, "neither of her parents had the slightest idea of where she was? It's kind of hard to just disappear like that, especially when you're only a kid."

"Hey," Rick answered for the two detectives, "if you want to get lost in the crowd, you come to New York City."

"Alright," she directed her reply towards Ryan and Esposito, "I want you guys to bring the parents in, let's see what they have to say. They still in Massachusetts?"

"Yeah," they replied in unison, "Milford, Massachusetts."

"Well, get them up her as soon as you can." She said before turning away and heading back towards the door. Rick put his hand back in its rightful place, on the small of her back. She smiled at the feel, the tingles that filled her body each time he did that.

They'd been dating for four and a half months; she wasn't supposed to feel like a schoolgirl with a raging crush every time he put a hand on her back. They'd been on tons of dates, the press had known about them for three months and that hand of his had done much naughtier things to her body and yet she still felt a thrill rush through her every time he so much as touched her. She had fallen hard for this man, that much she knew for sure. No one else had ever made her feel this way, so free, so amazing, so alive. As they made their way into the car she put one hand on the steering wheel, directing the car out of the parking space, while the other held onto his hand tightly. Normally, after a new case was just started she was in work mode, not even thinking about showing any type of affection towards the man. But for some reason, she couldn't help herself. They rode in silence, each one contemplating the facts of the new mystery. Why had this girl run away, only to end up as a stripper? How'd her parents find her if they hadn't had even the slightest clue to her whereabouts for six years?

Much sooner than she had anticipated she found herself pulling into another parking spot, this one right in front of the precinct. As he opened the door and motioned for her to walk through she was surprised to find that her fingers were still laced with his, each holding onto the other tightly. She quickly squeezed his hand and dropped it, returning her own hand to the pocket of her jacket before offering him a soft smile. Their relationship was different than most, it came with the job she was paid to do and the one he observed, they needed to know the other one was still there. Running around catching murderers was a dangerous business and both of them needed to know that the other was okay, that they were still right there with them. That and the fact that she was sure both her and Rick were still in a slight state of disbelief, even after four months neither could shake the idea that the other might have second thoughts, might run. The comfortable silence still enveloping them the couple entered the elevator and she jabbed the button, as the doors closed he broke the silence between them, a grin spreading over his face.

"I can already tell this case is going to be fun." He was practically bouncing with enthusiasm, a grin on his face that she hadn't seen on a grown man before she'd met him. She rolled her eyes at him, making sure he saw, before leaning into him slightly, turning her head away so he couldn't see the small smile on her lips.

Rick was wrong; this case was not fun at all. They'd gone all day and gotten no leads, nothing to even give them a clue as to who would do this. Julie's parents were coming up tomorrow so hopefully they'd be able to shed some light on what had gotten their daughter killed. After a slow day of nothing but dead ends she'd gone back to her apartment, changed and headed out for a run in Central Park. She needed to work off the frustration that had accumulated throughout the day; even Rick's constant attempts at cheering her up hadn't been working by late afternoon. So he'd agreed to go back to the loft, prepare a nice dinner and wait for her to come on over. She'd told him she'd arrive at around 7:00 and it was 5:45 now, if she was going to get back to her apartment in time to shower and get ready she should be turning back now, heading back in the direction from which she'd come. But as she turned around her eyes widened and she came to a complete halt, standing stock still as the cold November air gusted around her. He was sitting on a bench not far from her, just sitting there staring off into the park. Just as she was about to begin running again, in an attempt for him not to see her, he turned to look directly at her, his eyes widening as she was sure hers had. Damn, she had the worst luck.

"Kate?" The man rose and all but ran towards her, obviously stunned to see her.

"Hey, Will." She offered him a small smile and a much larger one spread across his face.

"Hey, how've you been? I was actually planning on calling you soon. I've been transferred back to New York." After they'd last seen each other they'd gone on a couple of dates before he'd been transferred to another city, essentially leaving her again. Strangely, she hadn't really cared all that much, it was nothing compared to the pain of losing Rick. He'd once again asked her to follow him, and once again she'd vehemently refused.

"Actually," she replied, "I've been great."

"I haven't," he reached out to hold her elbow, "I miss you, Kate. I was actually going to call but I see fate has other plans, I've been wondering if you'd want to go to dinner sometime." Did he seriously not know? She and Rick's relationship had been plastered on every paper and magazine in the city when they'd gone on their first public date, did this man live under a rock or something?

"Umm," she shifted uncomfortably, effectively pulling her elbow from his grasp, "I'm seeing someone, Will."

"Oh, who?" His face fell immediately, a frown taking the place of the smile that had been on his face moments ago. At the same time she felt both awkward and relieved, relieved that it was confirmed that not everyone on the planet was monitoring her love life, even if it made papers not everyone cared, and awkward because this situation wasn't exactly ideal.

"Rick, I'm sure you remember him." She glanced around, trying to look anywhere but at him and the reaction she knew that statement was going to get.

"Wait," she was dead on about the reaction, "you're dating the writer monkey?" He laughed, and her eyes narrowed at him.

"He has a name, Will." She defended, "And that writer monkey happens to be a much better man than you ever were." The laughter coming from her ex ceased only to be replaced with a bit of shock.

"You seriously care about him, don't you? You do realize he's just going to break your heart; he's just a playboy, Kate. He's incapable of love, of anything more than a fling." She felt the anger rising up in her, her jaw clenched and before she could control her emotions, as she so expertly did most of the time, she slapped Will.

"Bye, Will." Venom dripped from her words as she brushed by him, jogging back towards her apartment leaving a stunned FBI agent behind her. Anger was seeping from her, how could he? Will didn't even know Rick, in fact, few people knew Rick as the man she had come to love. Only Alexis, his mother and her had the great privilege of seeing him at his best. Not even her team, his team as well, got to see all of his wonderful sides. Will was wrong, Rick was completely capable of loving her; she knew this because he had proven it to her time and time again. Jogging through the cold air snow began to fall, beginning to lightly cover the ground in a quilt of pure white. She hailed a cab, climbed in and gave the driver her address. Speeding back towards her apartment she called Rick, giving him a heads up that she would be a bit late, though she didn't tell him why. There was no need to inform him of the conversation she'd just had. As the taxi skidded to a stop she threw a couple bills at the cabby, made her way into the lobby and got into the elevator, already forgetting about Will as she thought about the night that lay ahead.

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**What did you think? You liking the story so far, are you already beginning to hate it? Whatever your opinion may be, in my opinion, you should tell me what it is. Seriously, reviews are my life, they keep me going. So, please?**


	2. The Trigger

**Thanks to everyone for the reviews! I love all of you. Second of all, for those of you who read my last story, Out in the Open, you know I switched back and forth between Kate and Rick's points of view. Well, I'm not doing that in this story. Each chapter, except for a select few like this one, will be from Kate's point of view. So this chapter isn't necessarily from Rick's point of view. It may be, but it may not be. You'll have to wait and find out. **

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The chilled air of November crept through the fabric of his jacket and brushed his skin, causing shivers to run down his body. Teeth chattering he pulled the jacket tighter and zipped it up, fully regretting the decision to listen to the weatherman. That liar had said it was going to be sunny, fairly warm in fact, oh how wrong that all too happy man had been. And the fact that he was too proud to give in, to admit defeat by hailing a cab, meant that he had to walk through the cold back to the apartment, at least it was warm there. Breathing into his hands and then rubbing them together he tried to warm himself up as he passed a newsstand, realizing only then that he had forgotten to check who'd won last night. Damn job had kept him from watching the game, Yankees versus Red Sox. Now what kind of sick man would keep a person from witnessing that historical event? Apparently, his boss would. Getting home long after the game had ended he'd gone straight to bed, too tired to even think about baseball, which for him was very rare.

It was something he and his family had in common, always finding away to bring them together. He remembered taking his little girl to games at Yankee Stadium, the awed look on her face when he'd caught a ball for her. The game was much more than a simple game to him, it was memories, and it was glue; glue that held his family together; always giving them something to talk about or a tool to use to bond. Long story short, he couldn't believe he had forgotten something that important.

"Hello, sir." He offered the man at the stand a smile as he picked up the paper, holding out a few bills.

"Morning, you catch the game last night?" The man took the bills and shoved them into his pocket, wearing a large smile all the while.

"Just what I was about to do actually." He replied as he turned and resumed his walk.

"Take care." He offered a small wave to the man over his shoulder as he began to thumb through the paper, searching for the sports section. As he looked over pages there was one headline that caught his eye immediately, hands stilling as he read the bolded words. _Real Life Nikki Heat Pregnant._

"Oh my god!" He yelped as he continued to walk, now paying no attention to where he was going. No, not Kate; this couldn't be right. The press got things wrong all the time, making up outrageous stories in an effort to feed the addictions of tabloid junkies. No, it couldn't be true. But what if it was? What if she actually was pregnant? And if she was, the paparazzi found out before he did. He was informed of this development by the damn press, accidently happening across the information while looking for the outcome of a damn baseball game.

She would have told him. If he knew Kate, and he damn well did, she would have told him. She knew she could trust him; could come to him with anything. They'd been through their fair share of rough patches, actually it was probably more than their fair share, but they'd come out on top. She had to know he'd support her; she had to know he'd do anything she wanted him to. Oh god, he didn't know what to do. Should he confront her about it? Should he wait for her to come to him? But this was assuming that any of this article was even true, it could all just be some concoction of an editor trying to sell more copies. The rest of the world seemed to have disappeared, no sounds but the deafening pounding of his heart. No other sights but the headline, burned into his retina; he wasn't sure the image would ever leave. He didn't notice the people around him; the hustle and bustle of the city at it's best. He wasn't aware of the cars on the street beeping while people yelled out windows. And he certainly wasn't aware of the car right in front of him, desperately trying and failing to screech to a stop in time. The shrill honking of the horn mere white noise as the taxi driver attempted to swerve out of the way. There was no hope that he would notice the shrieks of some people around him, yelling for him to get out of the road. He was engrossed in this article, fear and shock taking over. So only when the taxi slammed his body to the ground, causing him to hit his head hard on the unforgiving pavement, did he notice. But he didn't have much time to do so before the blackness took over, effectively and quickly chasing away all awareness.

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**Okay, I know it's short but that couldn't be helped. This chapter had to end here for the story to pan out the way I want it to. You all know that if I could have I would have given you a much longer chapter. So, review? Please? With whipped cream and a cherry on top? With hot fudge? Mmm, sounds tasty. **


	3. It Begins

**Okay, so a giant thanks to everybody who reviewed this. I love all of you to death. Also, this hasn't been proofread because I'm exhausted so feel free to point out any mistakes for me to fix. **

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As she turned the cool metal key in the lock she couldn't help but think that her life didn't turn out as expected, not at all. Only minutes before she had effectively told the guy whom she once thought she'd be marrying to piss off, while simultaneously defending her boyfriend, Richard Castle. Life had definitely thrown in a hell of a lot of surprises; twists and turns just like the suspenseful plots of her favorite books. And yet, she loved her life now. She embraced the routine she'd settled into, nights with his family, quiet dinners alone, working by his side everyday doing something they both cared about, had a passion for, it was almost too good to be true. But it had taken them a while to get there, a lot of misunderstandings and awkward moments before they'd finally gotten over the fear and the insecurity. Placing her phone on the kitchen counter, but not before texting Rick to say she was going to be a little late, she headed for the shower. Peeling her clothes off as she crossed the apartment, the smell of frozen sweat piercing the air as she lifted her shirt off of her body. And then, just as she was about to shut the bathroom door, she heard the familiar melody of her phone ringing, an alert that someone needed to talk to her. She immediately began to close the door again; it was probably just him, but what if it was the precinct? She was on call tonight, so the captain might call if something came up. Half closing the door about a hundred times before finally deciding, she walked back over to her phone.

"Beckett." If the night kept going the way it was she was never getting over to Rick's.

"Hello, is this Katherine Beckett?" The voice was an unfamiliar one, unmistakably female. With such a formal greeting her heart began to race, eyes immediately widening.

"Yes, this is she." She tried to hear any and every sound in the background, any clues that would give away where the call was coming from, but all she could hear was the shuffling of papers.

"I'm sorry to inform you Ms. Beckett, but your father has passed away." And just like that, her world imploded.

"What? I mean, how? Oh my god!" She could feel the tears streaming down her face, she was sure the mystery woman on the other side could hear them, but she didn't care. All she wanted was her father, she wanted to go to a baseball game with him, she longed for the days when he'd come home from work and they'd watch TV, she wanted to spend Thanksgiving with him, Rick and Alexis. Rick was supposed to meet him on Thanksgiving, now her father would never get the chance to see the man who'd made her so happy.

"He was hit by a taxi earlier today, died of a subdural hematoma, or bleeding in the brain. The man who called the ambulance said he was reading a newspaper and stopped short in the street, he just stood there and kept saying 'Katie! Pregnant?' Again, I'm sorry, I really am." She couldn't speak, her throat had suddenly gone completely dry, she couldn't force any sounds out.

"Thank you." She choked it out after a few minutes, but anything more than that would be too much.

So, to save herself from more conversation, she hung up the phone and promptly dropped it to the ground. It wasn't too long before she followed, crumbling onto her floor while the tears now freely flowed. Just a week ago they'd spoken on the phone, he was cheerful, said he'd be happy to come to Thanksgiving at Rick's apartment. She thought about all the moments she wouldn't share with him, everything she could've done differently in order to somehow save him. That's when it hit her, the woman she still didn't know the name of had said before her father had died, it still took her breath away to even think it, he'd said something about her being pregnant while reading a newspaper. The tabloids, shit. She all but flew to her computer, typing_ Kate Beckett pregnancy_ into the search bar, and what came up almost had her crying again. The first article was from the Daily News, accompanying a picture of her and Rick was the headline _Real Life Nikki Heat Pregnant_. After reading the first few sentences she began to only skim it, she still wasn't used to having her life, especially the parts related to whom she was dating, displayed on page six for the world to read. But there it was, there she was on that page, the page that had gotten her father killed. A new wave of tears consumed her as the computer screen blurred, salty droplets hindering her vision.

She could hear the buzzing of her phone on the wood floor; she just couldn't bring herself to answer it. She knew it was him again; calling for the twenty-seventh time, she'd counted. He'd probably worked himself into a frenzy, worry and fear flooding his body, but she just couldn't bring herself to make the trip over to the phone. It was now 11:00; far past the time she'd told him she'd be at his apartment for dinner. But she couldn't answer, even if she wanted to. She'd made her decision, and now she had to live with the consequences. It was the right thing to do; she'd ultimately decided it was for the best. She couldn't ignore the fact that in some way, at some point, everybody left her. She could deny it all she wanted but in the end it was a fact of her life, everyone important to her disappeared. She had to do this; she had to protect herself before she got in too deep.

Hell, she was already in love with him but if she kept going like she was then she'd just fall for him more each day, then she couldn't back out in time, she wouldn't be able to walk away before he did. And that would mean an unimaginable amount of pain, a kind of pain she didn't want to deal with. She was going to be happier this way, sure she wasn't at all happy right now, but with time the wounds would heal. No, they wouldn't heal completely, she knew that she loved him enough for this ache never to cease, but they'd dull until she'd learned to deal with it. Her phone buzzed again and she jumped up, ready to answer, until she forced herself back down. No, it can't happen, stay strong. She'd be better off this way; he was only going to end up leaving her. Her mantra was repeated until the phone ceased the vibrating, saying it over and over in her head. But just as soon as it ended it started up again, the phone beginning to writhe around on the floor for the thirty-first time, she was still counting. Sure, he cared now, but what about six months down the road, a year, ten years? She didn't know what would happen then, and that's what scared her the most. Everybody left her eventually, why should he be any different? No, she couldn't let him in any further. She had to push him back out, out of her heart and out of her life.

Steeling herself she picked herself up off of the couch, grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. It was now or never, she was sure that if she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he might be different she'd never do it, and it needed to be done. Just like that, Fortress Beckett was rebuilt to it's former glory, towering high and intimidating all that tried to even sneak a peek at her heart. She headed for the elevator before she stopped and changed directions, heading for the stairs, the elevator was too slow and she needed to do it before she could stop herself. She couldn't let her feelings affect her, even if they were of love, she had been so good at squelching what she felt before, why was it so hard now? But by the time she entered the cab, giving the driver Rick's address, she'd fallen back into her old routine, sacrificing her own happiness in order to protect herself. She had to send their relationship crashing and burning, because if she didn't, at some point he would, and if she kept falling deeper and deeper in love with him, she was sure that she wouldn't survive the aftermath.

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**And the angst hasn't even begun yet. So, review? I'm sure that all of you have something to say about this, don't even try and deny it. **


	4. Battle

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! In fact, thank you to everyone reading this. But a giant hug for all of my reviewers! Now go on, read the chapter.**

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She'd been standing there for thirteen minutes, checking the time on her cell phone each time she thought she was ready, only to put it back in her pocket and stand stock still until she repeated the process. She'd been fired up, ready to burst into the apartment and get it over with, but then she'd gotten here. She'd reached her destination and it had all become real. She was actually going to do this, she was going to give up one of the only things that truly made her happy. And truth is, she didn't know if she was strong enough. She was saying goodbye to a family, her family. The group of caring people who had taken her in, who'd brought fun back into her life. She loved them, and they loved her.

But how long would that last? How much longer could it be before this went down the toilet too? When would he get bored and toss her out of their lives like garbage? When would they come to their senses and realize she wasn't good enough? These were not questions of if, but of when. That's what ultimately got her to raise a fist and tap it firmly against the door, that's what drove her to complete the suicide mission. She heard the quick shuffling of feet behind the door and a muffled "Oh my god, Kate!" from behind it, he'd obviously looked through the peephole.

The door flung open and before she could say anything she was pressed hard against his chest, strong arms enveloping her. Normally, this would be just what she needed, but now it was torture. This couldn't happen, she could feel herself melting into his body and that was not a good sign. She couldn't let herself fall under the illusion that he'd love her forever, that someday her last name would also be Castle. But it just felt so good, being surrounded by his warmth. She relished it for a few seconds, knowing that this would be the last time, then harshly pulled away.

"Oh my god! Where the hell have you been?" She looked at his eyes, they were wrought with worry, his breathing frantic. She looked away, not able to take it.

"Rick…" She tried and failed to sound firm.

"I was so worried, called about one hundred times! Don't you ever do that to me again, I thought…I thought you were dead. That some crazed psycho had killed you! With your job and my imagination, how could I not think that?" He was in a frenzy, pacing energetically through the loft.

"I…" She tried again to get his attention.

"Kate, promise me you'll never do that again? I don't think I could take it. I almost had a heart attack several different times tonight. And you should've seen Alexis, I eventually had to just tell her you'd called. That you were okay, but you couldn't make it. I had to lie to her, that's how worried she was." His hair was sticking straight up in random places, and as he ran his hands through it for what was probably the hundredth time she understood why.

"Richard Castle!" He looked up from the floor and stared at her.

"Sorry, but why the hell didn't you answer your phone?" His expression had gone from worried, to apologetic, to pleading in about three seconds flat.

"Rick, it's over." She knew she shouldn't have just flung it out there like that, but if she worked up to it slowly she'd give herself a chance to back out, she'd lose her nerve.

"Wait, what?" He stood in the living room, completely frozen. Mouth agape he was obviously trying to make sense of what she just said, to explain it.

"I'm sorry, I really am," he would never know just how sorry she was, "but it's over. We won't work, Rick. We don't work." She really hoped he didn't ask her to explain, because she wasn't sure she could.

"Why, Kate? Why?" But he never did listen to her, ever.

"Rick," she steeled herself for what she was about to say, for how she was about to hurt him, "you're an inconsiderate, egotistical and annoying playboy. You've never actually worked a day in your life, and think that if you just flaunt your money and looks around you'll get whatever your heart desires. And I don't want that in my life."

Throughout her little speech his face changed emotions so many times, but by the end it had finally settled on hurt. Complete and utter devastation. She hated that she'd caused it, that her words were the reason for his lost look. Tears threatened to spill over, but that would give her away, she had to come off like she didn't care, because that was the only way he'd believe her, the only way he'd leave her alone. And so she fought them back, just staring at him with cold eyes while he sorted his thoughts.

"Do you really think that about me? After all this time, after all the shit we've been through together is that how you actually view me?" He was pleading, she hated the sound of it. She couldn't take it, he only pleaded when he was desperate, desperate or hurt beyond belief. And right now, she had a hunch that he was both.

"It's the truth," She was proud to hear no weakness in her voice, just calculated coolness, "bye, Rick. Tell Alexis that I'm sorry." Her heartstrings were tugged on mercilessly at the mention of the redhead, of the girl she had come to think of as her own daughter. Then she looked up in his eyes, she was taken aback by what she found there, at the mention of his little girl Rick's eyes had filled with an anger she hadn't seen there before.

"Wait," his voice displayed the same level of anger his eyes did, "you're just going to leave her too? Kick her out of your life? Do you realize what you are to her? You're her role model, her mother figure. First Meredith just leaves her without a second thought, then Gina and now you? You're actually going to do that to her? She'll be devastated, Kate, she loves you. You're the closest thing she's ever had to a mother, and now you're just deserting her." She almost gave in then, almost dropped the whole plan and ran into his arms. She was this close to doing it, but she wouldn't let herself. She hated that she had to make him believe that she didn't care, that there wasn't one part of her that loved him, that loved Alexis, but she had to. She didn't have a choice if she was going to protect herself, protect her heart.

"She'll get over it." And with that, she turned around and reached for the doorknob. She couldn't stay here much longer, she couldn't take it. She already hated herself for making him feel this way, for abandoning the only family she'd had in a long time.

"Kate, we can work this out. Please don't leave us, don't leave me." There it was again, that desperate pleading. And with it's reappearance it brought along those dreaded tears, once again threatening to reveal her, to rip off the mask she was desperately holding to her face.

"No, Rick, we can't." She was sure she was going to break, she had to get out of there fast. But what could she do to make him let her go, to shut him up for a sufficient amount of time so she could escape?

"But Kate, I love you!" He was crying now, not blubbering, but she could tell from his voice that tears were running down his cheeks. She almost looked back, but she couldn't do that. She couldn't care less, that's what she kept telling herself. But with that statement he'd given her a way out, she'd found a solution. It was a solution she would hate herself for, she already hated herself for even thinking about telling him such a thing. But this was about survival, and if she was going to get out of here alive she had to say it.

"I don't love you Rick, not sure I ever did." She whipped the door open, slammed it and ran for the stairs. Tears were now flowing freely, she was sobbing. She hated everything, felt resentment and disdain towards herself. How could she do that to him, to that amazing family? She just kept telling herself it was for everyone's benefit, that it had to happen eventually.

She was sitting in the stairwell, nobody ever took the stairs so she knew she'd be alone there. She couldn't have anybody seeing her cry, she was strong; nobody could know that she wasn't as impenetrable as she made herself out to be. But she'd been sitting here for an hour, trying and failing to get the salty tears under control. Finally she'd cried herself out, though the hole eating away at her soul was still going strong. She didn't want to be alone anymore, she just wanted to forget about all of this. She wanted to, needed to, erase this whole goddamn day. Picking up her phone from the spot where it had landed after she'd thrown it against the wall she pressed speed dial four, pressing it to her ear and waiting.

"Hey, girl. What's up?" Lanie's cheerful voice filled the room, it was much too cheerful for her liking.

"I need alcohol, and lots of it. Now." She was ecstatic that her voice didn't quiver, no discernable cracks or shakes.

Twenty minutes later she was sitting at a table in a dark bar, Lanie staring at her from the other seat. She hadn't said one word that wasn't related to ordering drinks since they'd gotten here. Though she had downed numerous drinks, losing track of the exact number long ago.

"So, what's wrong?" Lanie had been quiet until then, letting her prepare for the girl talk ahead.

"We broke up." Her drunken mind wasn't one for beating around the bush.

"You and Rick?" Lanie's face had gone from curiosity to blatant shock the instant she said it, she hated that three-word phrase now. It was a horrible combination.

"Yes." One syllable replies, she knew that was all she could manage in response to that question.

"Why? What'd he do? Do I need to pay a visit to Mr. Castle?" Lanie's hand was now on her shoulder, rubbing it in soothing circles.

"It just didn't work out. He didn't do anything, it's not his fault. We're just not compatible." She was proud when only half of her words were slurred.

"Kate, that is not the reason. Now tell me why." She couldn't see Lanie's face, refusing to look into the woman's eyes, but from her stern voice she could vividly picture the expression her friend was wearing. She couldn't answer that question. She'd have to explain, and then her friend would see her for what she really was. A pathetic coward. Plus, Lanie would never understand, nobody would. Which is exactly why nobody could ever know the actual reason behind her and Rick's breakup, no one could ever find out.

She needed to move on, she needed to make it seem like everything was okay in her messed up head. She had to seem like she knew what she was doing, like she was just fine. Because she was always fine, always unaffected by emotion. But Lanie would push, Lanie would get it out of her eventually. And that was bad, no good could come from such confessions. She needed to be with someone who wouldn't make her explain, who would just accept it. She needed someone who believed that the façade she put on was actually her; that her mask was the real Kate Beckett.

"Lanie, can you go order me another drink?" She needed to get away, escape was the only option.

"I think you've had enough drinks already." Unfortunately, the M.E. was unwavering.

"Fine, some water then." She was a good liar, been doing it all her life.

"Okay, but when I get back you are going to tell me why, don't think you can get out of it." Lanie got up from the table and made her way over to the bar, looking back only once with a concerned expression. As soon as Lanie started ordering she polished off her drink and sprang up, making a dash for the door. Once the cold, unforgiving air of the city hit her face she knew she was free. Free of prying people, of questions, of explanations. But she still didn't want to be alone, she was afraid of where her mind would take her if she didn't have a distraction. So she pulled out her phone, happy to find the name she was looking for still in her contacts, long forgotten. That was the one person who wouldn't question her, they'd always just believed that her walls were as deep as she went. Pressing the call button she listened to the familiar voice as they picked up.

"Hello?" The professional, clipped tone was just as she remembered.

"Hey, you up for some dinner?"

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**Well, the deed has been done. And yet this isn't even the peak of the angst yet. This was originally supposed to be two separate chapters but I just decided to combine them, mostly because I can't wait to write the next one. You're kidding yourself if you really don't have anything to tell me about this. So instead of just saying it in your head, or yelling at the screen, why not type it up in a review? Please? I love reviews. **


	5. Wounds

**Well, here it is. And again, thank you for all of your reviews and all the support. It helps having all of those opinions when I'm writing. And for those of you who don't like this story, you don't have to read it. You can always just stop following it. I mean I'd love it if you gave this a chance, but if you really don't like it you don't have to read.**

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She woke to a horrible pounding, her whole head basically throbbing. And to top it off her mouth tasted like a dumpster, what a great way to start off the day. She stretched out, letting out a yawn, and she became aware of an arm. An arm that was not hers, a foreign arm slung across her waist. She smiled and turned around to face the person that arm belonged to.

"Good morning, R–" And that would be when she froze, the smile occupying her face quickly disappearing before she scrambled off of the bed and stood menacingly beside it, "what the hell?" The other person currently occupying her bed yawned and opened their eyes, looking around her room before his eyes fell on her, obviously roaming up and down her body. It was only then that she realized she had an inadequate amount of clothes on, inadequate amount of course meaning none.

"Oh god, oh god!" She screamed out her frustrations as she tore the sheets off of the bed and pulled them around her body. This couldn't be happening, how could she let this happen?

"What's wrong, babe?" The man lying in her bed stared up at her, obviously groggy and confused. He wiped his eyes, attempting to chase the tiredness away.

"What's wrong?" She completely lost it, "What's wrong? Do you not see the problem here? You're naked in my bed and I don't remember what happened at all! How can you think this could ever be a good thing? Oh my god!" She was frantically pacing the room, her hands constantly in motion as if that might help her recall some memories from the night before.

"Kate, calm down. Just come back to bed and I'll tell you what happened." She immediately stopped moving, freezing in place.

"You were sober?" She hissed, jaw clenching immediately.

"Um, yeah." He said it as if he were explaining it to a child, a very slow child.

"You were sober and you didn't stop me, who judging by the pounding in my head was very drunk, from having sex with you? What could you possibly have been thinking?" She was back to yelling, not caring that the massive headache she had was protesting vehemently.

"You told me you wanted to get back together, that you missed me. You called me, you called me and told me to meet you at your place. And when I get here you open the door and start making out with me, telling me that you want me back. How was I supposed to know you didn't actually feel that way?" Great, now he was angry too. Now she had to deal with him and the rest of her messed up life. How was she going to explain this to Rick? Then she remembered, the memories up until she called Lanie flooding her mind. They broke up, she had broken up with him. Her dad was dead, hit by a taxi yesterday night. Her life was in shambles, and this was the cherry to top it all off with.

She sat on the floor, holding her head in her hands as she tried to stop the tears from returning. Not in front of him, not now. She could picture him staring at her, completely confused by her breakdown, but couldn't bring herself to care. He was the least of her worries right now. Her heart was breaking, being torn into tiny little pieces. She recited the mantra, be strong, it's all for the best. She felt a hand on her back, an attempt at comforting her, but she shrugged it off and threw him a glare that had him retreating out of her room as he put a robe on, he didn't even question why she had two robes in her bedroom, one obviously meant for someone with a much larger build than her.

Rocking back and forth she didn't notice the knock, the frantic pounding on her door. She didn't hear him abandon the coffee maker and open the door, offering the visitor a confused greeting.

"Will?" That was the first bit of the conversation she heard, and it was only because of the voice that uttered it. She quickly put on a robe, haphazardly tying it around her waist, and shot out of the bedroom. Sure enough, it was him; complete with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes. But the expression on his face, a mix of anger, hurt and a whole damn lot of confusion, that's what tore her already barely beating heart apart.

"Rick." She whispered his name, just wishing he would go away. That both of them would just leave. She saw his hands clench into fists, his jaw tighten as he began to turn away from her, from the situation. But he wasn't quick enough, she saw them before he could turn and run. She saw the tears trickling down his cheeks as he turned and walked out of her apartment, out of her life. She'd never seen him cry before, she'd never seen him that hurt. Sure, last night she remembered hearing it in his voice, but she'd never actually seen the tears. She supposed it was all for the best, he obviously wasn't coming back. And if he didn't try to win her back, if she never saw him again, then she wouldn't have to feel that horrible pang in her heart whenever she saw his face, or even smelled his cologne.

He'd get over her, they all would, and it wouldn't take that long. Sure, they may care now, but it wouldn't take very long for them to completely forget about her. She wasn't good enough for them anyway, it was time they realize that. There was a reason everyone she cared about left, she wasn't worth caring about. A noise alerted her to the other presence in the room, a not so subtle clearing of the throat.

"Go." She said through clenched teeth, refusing to open her eyes and show him exactly how close to breaking she was.

"But–" He pleaded.

"No, Will. Just leave, leave me alone." She only whispered it but he heard her, swiftly going back into her room, dressing and walking back towards the door. She heard it open, hesitating for a moment he stopped before closing it, no doubt contemplating if he should try and help, but in the end he just closed the door, just like he always had. When she heard the soft click of the door she broke, the tears she had been holding back finally free. She just lay on her floor sobbing. Sobbing for sleeping with Will, for messing up her life so royally, for her dead father, for hurting Rick that way, she wept for it all.

This was exactly why nobody should care about her, why she wasn't worthy of being loved. She hurt people, she always ended up hurting those she loved the most. That's why they left, they realized she wasn't good enough, that she wasn't worthy of their time. She was broken, nothing and nobody could fix her, who would ever want damaged goods? After her tears dried and no more came she just lay there, her body shaking as she tried to calm down. Her phone rang, breaking the trance.

Slowly she got up, trying to remember where exactly her phone was. After rummaging through her purses she found it, tucked inside the one she must've been using last night, the caller ID said it was Esposito. Could she handle that right now? Could she pretend like everything was okay? She didn't have a choice, she had to. If she was going to seem fine, if she was going to go back to being Fortress Beckett, the woman who didn't have emotions, she was going to have to pretend it was okay. She was just going to have to deal with it.

"Beckett." Her tone was emotionless, forceful as ever.

"Hey, we have the parents here. You wanna talk to them or should we?"

"You guys do it, I'll be there in a little bit." She hung up, not bothering to wait for his response. And with that, she steeled herself and made her way over to the shower.

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**Will probably isn't the type of guy who would do this but for the purposes of this story, he is. Other than my normal "What did you think?" I do have another question for you guys. Remember the case that was started in chapter one? Well, should I continue having her investigate that in the story or should I just leave that in the background and keep focusing on the non-work related part of her life? I'm not sure, so I thought I'd ask you guys.**

**Lastly, review? Just like the previous chapter, I'm sure you have something to say about this.**


	6. Smile Like You Mean It

**Wow, has it really almost been a month since I last updated? Sorry, everyone! I know, I know, this is no way to treat the amazing readers who have stuck with this story through its angst and sadness. Life, and inspiration issues, got in the way. But have no fear, I'm back with a vengeance. You'll definitely be getting updates more regularly now. **

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She knew he was staring at her, she could always tell. The strange thing was, she couldn't really explain how. Sure, she was trained to pick stuff like that up. But whenever he was staring at her this feeling just ran up and down her body, usually ending with every part of her tingling. She was a detective, she was supposed to detect these things. But this was different, so deliciously different. _

"_Castle, stop staring." But even if it did make her feel amazing he wasn't supposed to know that. _

"_But you're just so fascinating." He countered, pouting masterfully. He leaned back in the chair, in his chair, and cocked his head. _

"_Tell me, how do you find watching me type something on a computer fascinating?" She was genuinely curious, it was boring for her to do it so why would he want to watch it? But then again, he was Rick. He rarely had a reason for anything, and if he did it was always some obscure explanation that had her mind reeling just trying to keep up. Usually. Sometimes his explanations made total sense, sometimes she was shocked she hadn't thought of the exact same thing. And sometimes she was shocked that she did. _

"_Fishing for compliments, detective?" He smirked at her, eyes twinkling. _

"_Nope, just curious as to how the hell you find this interesting to watch." She gestured towards her computer screen, a word document displayed proudly on the screen. _

"_Beckett," she still made him call her Beckett at work, "when are you going to get it through your stubborn head that I just like watching you? Okay, okay that sounds creepy. I'll explain. I like watching your facial expressions, they always let on what's going on in that beautiful head of yours, even if that head is the most stubborn one I've come across in a long time. It's not what you're doing that fascinates me, it's you. You fascinate me, Kate." He'd called her Kate in the precinct and yet she couldn't bring herself to care. Not even one bit. Her heart was melting and fluttering at the same time, was that even possible? It had to be, it was happening. She smiled at him, a real smile. She'd been doing that a lot lately, smiling those genuine smiles. Not that fake crap you offer up when you feel like you have to, or the one that shows people you're okay and not about to break down and cry right then and there. She'd experienced a lot of those before, but since Rick came into her life she'd been smiling more and more. Real, honest smiles. _

"_It's still creepy." She turned back to her computer, still smiling, and resumed typing. But she could still feel that tingling throughout her body, she could feel his eyes on her. But she didn't care, she just pretended she didn't notice and kept on working. _

She looked up from the chair and sighed, a sigh full of longing and sadness. Ever since she'd gotten to work that morning she would stare at that chair every few minutes, memory after memory replaying in her head. Damn that chair, it was his chair now. Undoubtedly and forever it belonged to him, it radiated Rick Castle. That's why she hated it. Well, maybe she didn't hate it. She might've liked it. Might've liked it a lot. It was a reminder of him, of the days when she was happy. She may have been naïve, completely forgetting who she was and what she was destined to be, but she was happy. Stupid reality and it's tendency to come crashing down on her at all the wrong moments. Through that chair, his chair, she could escape to the past. In those memories she was laughing, she was smiling those real smiles that she already missed.

She'd already smiled too many fake smiles that morning, ones that hid how she was really feeling. Truth was, she felt like she was half-alive. Like she was on autopilot, completely and totally out of it. People would smile at her, the real kind, and she'd offer up some pathetic attempt at happiness just to make sure they didn't catch on. Her father was dead, he'd left her just like her mom had. And she'd left Rick, he was going to leave her eventually so why wait around until it would hurt even more? But not only did she leave Rick, she left Alexis. The girl she'd come to think of as a daughter, she cared about that girl. But when Rick had left Alexis would have too, she just beat them to the punch. Problem was, even though she'd left them first, it still hurt. Hurt like hell, in fact.

She'd fallen for them, not just for Rick but for his daughter too. Now she just had to figure out how to un-fall for them, how to undo the love she so obviously felt. Because it would never work, would never last. He'd find someone else who fit into his world and Alexis would find someone more capable of being a mother. They'd find someone who wasn't broken. She was broken, she wasn't what they needed. And she could never be. And so she had to un-love them, because it hurt like hell to love them knowing she couldn't be what they wanted, what they deserved.

She got up from her chair and walked to the other side of her desk. Running her hand along the armrest one more time she lifted the chair up and started to carry it back to the break room where she'd first got it three years ago. After three years of partnership, three years of that chair being a constant accessory to her desk, she was putting it away. She couldn't deny the obvious symbolism of her actions. She was moving on, not quite erasing him because honestly she didn't think that was possible, but still doing everything she could to forget. Everything she could to undo everything. Sometimes she just wished she had a reset button. But this was reality, and in reality there were no redoes. There were no reset buttons, there were only actions and consequences. And these consequences, these were hers.

"What are you doing, Beckett?" She heard Ryan behind her as she set the chair down in the break room. In a corner, out of sight.

"Castle's not coming back to the precinct." She heard a gasp from one detective and a spluttering from another, obviously Esposito had been with Ryan.

"What?" Esposito made his presence known, albeit choking while doing so.

"He's not coming back, guys." She turned to face them, hoping her face showed the impassive expression she didn't feel.

"Why?" They both looked dumbfounded, and honestly a little heartbroken. They looked all sorts of hurt. They tried to mask it but their eyes showed it all, she'd noticed long ago that you can see most people's true emotions through their eyes. She hoped it wasn't true for her.

"Castle and I broke up, he won't be shadowing me anymore." Her voice didn't crack, she didn't choke on her words. Outwardly she appeared fine, she wished she were actually fine. She walked out of the room and sat back down at her desk, taking a sip of the coffee she'd made this morning. Using the regular coffee machine.

After a few minutes she instinctually looked back up again at the spot where his chair had been, it looked to empty now. Vacant of life, of booming laughter and sly smirks. She looked up towards the bullpen, towards the spot where the chair, it was too painful to call it his now, rested. Something, she wasn't sure what, tugged on her heart when she saw a uniform sitting in it, eating a sandwich from a takeout box. She could feel the tears coming but she refused to shed them. She wouldn't cry over him, not over Rick freakin' Castle. Problem was, she already had. A lot. Well, she'd cried for a number of reasons; her dad, her mom, her loneliness, loss, Alexis, the monstrous world around her and inevitably Rick. She'd cried because of the entire travesty that was her life.

She was done crying. Damn him, damn Richard Castle. He made her want to cry, he made her actually shed tears. He made her show emotions, he made her give into weakness. But more than that, he made her feel. Up until he'd come into her life she'd been numb to a certain point. When you got right down to it, she was only half-there. A part of her, the part that had been who she was before her mother's murder, was in hibernation. But he'd coaxed it out, lured it out of hiding with his laughter, his waggling eyebrows and those rare serious moments. He'd brought Kate back to life. Before she'd just been Detective Beckett, super cop extraordinaire. But after him, she was both Detective Beckett and Kate, and it felt amazing.

Problem was, Kate had emotions. She had feelings of her own. Kate cried, showed unacceptable weakness. But most of all, Kate had fallen for Rick. She couldn't do that, she wasn't allowed to do that. The part of her that smiled those genuine smiles had gone into hiding for a reason. Kate got herself hurt, she was always left behind right when she let herself love someone completely. And so Detective Beckett was born, and she had pushed Kate into a shadows.

So damn him, damn him for making her feel again. She'd gotten so used to being alone, to just being Detective Beckett and nothing more. But then he just had to come in and ruin her plan. But he'd always liked to mess with her, ruining her plans daily. He never listened. She looked away from the other cop, forcing herself back to her paperwork. Then she heard the footsteps approaching her and the scent of coffee floating towards her nose. Her head shot up, expecting to see a writer walking towards her. But it was Ryan, holding coffee out to her as an obvious gift of sympathy and a welcomed peace offering.

"Thanks." She murmured as she took the cup from him, noticing that her other cup was empty.

"We got a lead." He said it softer that usual, but other than that she couldn't find any other change in him. Good boy, Ryan. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't want pity, much less outright sympathy. She'd talk in her own time, at least that's what he thought. And usually it would be true, but this time wouldn't go down that way. That was how Kate operated, but now Kate was gone again. And all there was left was Detective Beckett standing guard.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked Ryan as she got up from her seat and started walking in the direction of Esposito, who was obviously waiting for them. Esposito smiled at her, his own peace offering. In return she plastered a smile onto her face, but one she so obviously didn't mean.

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**Okay, I know it looks bleak now but I swear these two will get their happy ending. It'll just be a hell of a ride getting there. So, review? I swear, it would make my day. And would definitely prompt me to update sooner. Not a bribe, just a truth. **


	7. Haunted

**Alright, I know I promised this yesterday but I couldn't sneak away yesterday so you're getting it now. My life has been so chaotic lately it's been hard to find time to write this. Right as I promise to update much quicker my life gets so busy. The title of this chapter comes from the song Haunted by Taylor Swift. I think it really fits this chapter, that is, if it was from a guy's point of view instead of a girl.**

**One last thing before I release you from this author's note. This story was nominated for a Castle Fanfiction Award and I just want to say thank you to everybody who has stuck with this story. I love all of you! And a giant thanks to all of my reviewers, you guys never cease to make my day. Without your support this never would have been nominated so thank you everybody! Now that I'm done blathering, go on and read. **

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Martha stared at the door willing it to open and reveal her smiling son, willing it to tell her what he was doing in there and what had turned her usually joking son into the epitome of gloom. She wasn't used to this. She wasn't accustomed to not knowing what was going on in this household but more importantly she wasn't used to not knowing how to make him feel better. He wasn't a little boy anymore, she couldn't place a kiss on his wounds and make them go away. She couldn't protect him from the cruelties of the world. Despite what he told people of his childhood she'd always tried her best to protect him, to keep him from anything that would hurt him.

She knew she couldn't protect him now that he was grown but she'd always prided herself on the fact that no matter how old he got she'd always be there to make him feel even a little bit better when something knocked him down. But now she couldn't do that, now she hadn't the slightest idea what was wrong. He always made fun of her for being an eccentric person, a tad out there if you will, and for giving him an unconventional childhood but there was never any doubt that she loved her son with all of her heart. She would do anything for him and it killed her to have to sit by and watch him hurt.

"Is hey okay, Grams?" She whirled away from the door to find Alexis standing on the bottom of the staircase, her face encased in worry.

"I don't know, darling. I just don't know." Both women turned towards the door to his study where he'd been hiding for what seemed like forever. Her granddaughter walked towards her tentatively before the redhead wrapped her arms around her grandmother's side, both of their eyes still trained on the door in case anything changed.

Five days. Five days since she'd ended their relationship. Five days since she told him she never loved him. Five freakin' days since she broke his heart and slammed the door in his face on her way out. It felt like it had been years ago and only minutes before at the same time. He thought he knew her so well. That's what prompted him to chase her, to go to her apartment the next morning. Maybe she was just running like she'd always done, taken off when she got scared. He thought he had her all figured out, he seemed to think he could read her. How wrong he had been about all of that. She wasn't running, at least not in the way he'd thought, she was just going back to Will. Looks like the bastard had reeled her in after all. And in realizing that his heart had not only broken, it had shattered.

He'd felt pain like this once before, when Kyra left. But that pain still wasn't the same as this newfound feeling. The hurt of Kyra leaving him had been more of an inconsistent stab, it would come and go as it pleased. But this, this was a slowly burning yet powerful ache deep within him, it hurt all the time. There was no moment of peace, no minute where the pain went away. After Kyra he'd sworn to himself that he would never feel pain like that again, that he was never again to be heartbroken. People thought Kate had walls but his fortress was almost as impenetrable as hers. The difference was he'd seen how special she was from the beginning, he'd let his guard down for her. And look at where that got him.

After Kyra he'd built up the playboy persona, the one-night stands and the bimbos only an act to protect him from actual feelings. And in turn, actual hurt. He made everything into a joke to prevent situations from getting too serious, from turning into something where he might walk away with a little bit of pain in his chest. Only he'd slowly brought his walls down for Kate, one by one. Some she'd just somehow wormed her way over or under, he still wasn't sure how, but others he had lowered for her. He'd let down his carefully constructed and basically impenetrable mask because he thought that she just might be the one who wouldn't hurt him, she may have just been the right woman, only to be rewarded with a pain he could never have even imagined. And he had one creative and overactive imagination, he wrote novels for a living after all. He was paid to imagine things and yet this hurt was too unreal to ever put on paper.

But he didn't regret it, not one bit. Even if it had turned out this way he still thought she was worth it. He still loved her, and that's what made him angry. To have it be going so great only to find out it was all a lie, to love her and find out she never loved him back. It was torture. But he didn't, couldn't, regret a single moment he spent with her. Having her let him in, even if it was only for a fleeting moment, was exquisite. Being able to touch her for even the quickest of seconds was heaven. Any ephemeral memory he had of her was priceless, nothing could come close to its value.

He was in love with her. And he'd had her for the briefest of times until he allowed her to slip through his fingers, her form slowly retreating until she was ripped away from him altogether. He was an idiot. He hadn't seen the signs, if he'd done even one thing a different way maybe she'd be with him right now, sitting on the couch in front of him reading a book as he spun his tales. If he'd done something differently or had never done something at all maybe, just maybe, she'd love him.

"Richard, darling, may I come in?" His head whipped up to see his mother solemnly staring at him from the doorway. He could see flashes of bright orange behind her, obviously Alexis retreating back up to her room.

"Mhm." He looked back towards the window, the only sounds in the room being the soft padding of his mother's footsteps and the click of the door as it closed. He could see her out of the corner of his eye as she sat on the edge of his desk, craning her head to look at his computer screen. Obviously not so surprised to find the document he had open completely blank.

"Kate broke up with me." She always waited for him to start talking, it was something he'd always loved about her. She didn't make him talk to her, she was just always there when he was ready to.

"Oh, Richard," she swiftly stood up and wrapped him in a hug, rubbing soothing circles on his back, "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks." It was the polite thing to say, it was more of a habit than anything to say it. He knew that right here, right now, he didn't need to bother with unnecessary things such as that but somehow it felt like the only thing he'd be able to muster up in return. They stayed like that for a while, him sitting in his chair as she leaned against the corner of his desk, both cloaked in silence.

"Well," she, as usual, was the one to break it, "you know how Kate gets. She gets scared so she retreats. I'll bet that she just needs some time, in fact maybe–"

"No, mother," he cut her off, "this is for good." He looked up at her, pleading with her to understand that it hurt, that it hurt so goddamn much.

"How do you know that?" She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly to let him know she was there. She was there and she wasn't leaving.

"She's with Will now." He turned away as he said it, he couldn't take the look on her face when she realized what he was talking about.

"What?" It was abrupt and obviously not captured by her lips before it slipped out.

"I went to her apartment the morning after she…ended it and Will, her ex-boyfriend, was there. In fact, he answered the door like he owned the place." He neglected to mention that Will had been wearing his robe or that Kate's face was stony, completely expressionless.

"I'm so sorry," she moved again to envelope him in a hug, "I'm so sorry, Ricky." There it was, the nickname she only broke out when she was desperately trying to comfort him. She used to call him that all the time as a kid but as he'd grown up he thought it sounded too childish so she'd cut down. Now she only used it when she was trying to push away all the evils in the world, when he needed to revisit a world of innocence where there was no pain. They stayed that way until the sun was far below the horizon, leaving them encased in both silence and darkness.

She didn't ask what he was going to do about the Nikki Heat series, she didn't bring up whether he was still going to invite the boys over for their monthly video game tournament. There was no getting into logistics, no planning ahead. They were both just content to sit there, her comforting him while he thought about anything and everything. She sat on the arm of his chair, rubbing slow circles on his back as he stared at the perfectly white document and blinking cursor. She stood behind him, hands on either of his shoulders, while he talked to her about subjects that didn't relate to each other at all. But most importantly she held him, whispering meaningless phrases into his ear, when he cried.

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**So did anybody else notice in Close Encounters of the Murderous Kind that Esposito kept relaying all of the information from Lanie? Hmm, wonder what's going on there. **

**Review? Pretty please? I live off of reviews, they actually make me so happy. It's an addiction, though we won't question if that's healthy or not.**

**Okay, so in the sprit of Christmas I wanted to do something nice for the wonderful people on here. So I'm taking an idea from hallow777. You can PM me and tell me the basic, or detailed I don't really care, plot and pairings (if any) of a one-shot you'd like to read and I'll write it. Consider it a Christmas present. **


	8. Goodbye

**In the spirit of Christmas I'm giving out little presents to those who want them. If you want to you can PM me with the plot of a one-shot or drabble you'd like to see written and I'll write it. I've been wanting to say thank you to all of my wonderful readers and the only thing I'm decent at is writing so I'm going to give you stories. So if you want one and have even the most basic of plots, or even just a concept, don't hesitate for a moment to message me. I'll do my best to write whatever you dream up.**

**Thank you for all the reviews! I really do appreciate them all. A lot of you pointed out that Kate would have gone to see her dad by then and I agree. I just wanted to deal with Rick first because we hadn't checked in with him. Hope this chapter puts your concerns about that particular issue to bed. Now I'll stop blathering so you can get to reading. **

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It was a beautiful day, the warm temperature was not normal of a November afternoon and the cruel wind that had been plaguing the city for the past few days had subsided. But it shouldn't be this way. It shouldn't be sunny and cheerful, people merrily making their way down the streets. It should've been raining, frigid raindrops dripping off of umbrellas as the wind tried to yank them out of people's grasps. Nobody should be happy today, but everybody else seemed annoyingly unaware of that fact. The only people who seemed polite enough to recognize that they shouldn't have smiles on their faces were the people gathered around the cemetery plot, family and friends standing quietly around the casket.

It had been five days and she still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that he was gone. She'd gone to see him the day after the hospital had called and for a while she couldn't even believe that it was her father lying there, lifeless and cold. She'd planned the funeral on autopilot still not quite aware of whom she was planning it for. It wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to happen for years.

One by one they all cautiously approached the casket and placed a flower on top, some crying and others whispering unheard goodbyes. She couldn't move; she couldn't go near it. Goodbyes were so final, she didn't want final. She wanted to wake up and have this entire thing be a dream. She wanted to call her dad tonight and catch up because honestly, they didn't talk nearly as much as they should. Should've, she angrily corrected herself. As in past tense, she only had memories now.

"Hey, Katie." She felt a large hand squeeze her shoulder as a gravelly voiced man made himself known. She didn't have to turn around to know exactly who it was; she'd always loved that voice.

"Hi, Uncle Paul." Ever since she was little he'd been her favorite relative. Her dad's younger brother didn't lie to her, didn't patronize her. He treated her as an equal. Plus, he always got her really awesome Christmas presents.

"How you holdin' up?" His voice was laced with concern. She almost gave the normal reply, her denial that anything was in fact wrong. But his voice was so honest, so true. So instead she settled for the truth.

"I'm not." And it was true. She was coming apart at the seams.

"Oh, Katie," he was the only one who still called her that, "a young woman like you shouldn't have to have gone through what you've gone through. Especially when it's all without warning, an unexpected crisis just popping up out of the blue. I always thought your dad was too stubborn to die, that he'd live forever because he just refused to go. He was always like that, even as a kid. Hell of an older brother though, always protected me. But he never protected anyone the way he protected you, Katie. You were his world, especially after your mom died. He loved you more than anything, would've done whatever he could've to make you happy because he couldn't live with himself when you were sad. That's why he sobered up you know, because he couldn't bear to hurt his little girl." She let a small smile grace her lips, though it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"This your way of telling me that he wouldn't want me to be sad about this?" She stared at the graves around her, tracing the contours with her eyes.

"I know you're gonna be sad, I'm just saying that he wouldn't want you to tear yourself up about this. So, I guess the answer to your question is kinda." He was an honest man, she had to give him that.

"Thanks." She leaned into his touch a little more, craving the comfort he was so obviously trying to give her.

"Look, I know how you were after your mom died. I just don't want you to lose yourself again. Don't shut everyone out, Katie. You need your family, your friends. Just don't forget that." She chuckled, but it was more sardonic than anything. It was a little late for that advice.

"I'll try." Try as she might she couldn't be truthful about everything, she just wasn't ready for complete honesty.

"Now go on, he might not have wanted you to be tearing yourself up over this but I know he would've wanted a proper goodbye." He used the hand on her shoulder to nudge her forward, forcing her to take slow steps toward the coffin.

She plucked an iris from one of the bouquets, the blue a clear contrast to the mahogany color of the wood. Though he'd never admitted to having a preference when it came to flowers she knew these were his favorites. He used to tell her that they represented faith and hope, something he always had and she seemed to have lost. He'd always had hope, even in the direst of situations. It was something she'd always admired him for, and always would. Something she'd never been able to achieve. She placed her hand over the flower on the coffin, closing her eyes and trying to find any hope that may be hiding within her.

_She threw the white ball at him again, groaning in frustration when it landed a few yards from where he was standing. Stomping her feet onto the ground she glared at the ball as he tossed it from one hand to the other, smirking as she fumed. _

"_Like this," he said and slowly went through the process of throwing the baseball at her. When she caught it without dropping it his eyes lit up with pride thought she'd done it a million times before. She could catch just fine it was throwing that she couldn't seem to wrap her head around. Preparing to throw the ball back at him he held up a hand to stop her, quirking his head at her when she sent him a questioning glance._

"_Turn your hips." After readjusting her body she threw the baseball as hard as she could, surprised and elated when its path ended right in his glove. _

"_I did it, daddy!" She squealed as she jumped up and down, unable to wipe the grin off of her face. He dropped the ball immediately and kneeled down, opening his arms to her. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his torso, repeating her last statement over and over again. He picked her small body up and spun her around, both of them laughing as hard as either thought possible._

"_I knew you could, sweetie. I always knew you could."_

Her heart ached at the memory, wishing he would hug her one last time and whisper words of confidence in her ear. She could really use that right now.

"_Kate, can I come in?" He poked his head into her room cautiously, eyes wide from the fear that she might rip it off. But instead she just looked up at him, eyes red and puffy from crying. _

"_I guess." She said softly, clutching her pillow and pulling it tightly to her body. Even at fourteen years old it wasn't often that anybody would see her this vulnerable. It was new territory for both of them._

"_Look, I know this is usually something your mom would talk to you about but since she's on a business trip I thought that maybe you'd settle for your old man." He smiled at her and raised an eyebrow, trying to coax a laugh from his sad teenager. She stared at the wall, obviously wondering if she should tell him or not. As he sat down on the bed and began rubbing soothing circles on her back she made her decision._

"_I just don't get why he'd do that. I mean, I thought that we had something. I really liked him, dad. And I thought he really liked me too, but I guess I was wrong. He told me I was beautiful. He said I was special. But he also said that I was the only girl he wanted, and that wasn't true. So who knows how much of the other stuff was a lie." Earlier that day she'd caught her first boyfriend, Mark, kissing some girl on the cheerleading squad. Sure, she'd yelled at him and acted confident but that was far from what she was actually feeling. Truth was, she felt like hiding under her bed and never coming back out._

"_Hey," his voice was soft now, "you are special, Kate. You're beautiful, smart, funny and downright amazing. If he couldn't see that then obviously he didn't deserve you in the first place. And if he did see that and still did what he did then he was just stupid, and I can't have my daughter dating a dumbass." She looked up at him, shocked at his choice of words since she'd never heard him curse. He just offered her a grin and pulled her into a hug. _

"_Thanks, daddy." She smiled against his chest, breathing in the aftershave and peppermint scent that mixed together to create his smell. _

She looked up and found relatives staring at her, searching for any signs of a breakdown. They were the relatives who'd seen her after her mother's death, the ones who had watched her fall apart. What they didn't seem to realize was that she was already broken. She had already shattered years ago. She couldn't break anymore than she already had. Her eyes fell back on the iris, petals wiggling in the breeze. Running her thumb along one of them she breathed in, swearing she could almost smell him, the fresh peppermint and manly aftershave such a strong and constant memory she could resurrect it at will.

"Goodbye, daddy." She hadn't called him daddy in years but somehow it felt right.

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**Yes, it's still sad. But it'll get better soon I promise, Kate needs some help in realizing that what she's doing is the opposite of what she needs. And hearing Uncle Paul say it was the first step. **

**Oh, did anybody see a particular image of something that's happening in January? Did anybody squeal as loud as me? Doubt it. **

**Lastly, review? I always love to hear from my readers, if only to know that you're out there. Even if it's one word I'm always happy to hear from the people who are reading my story. I really do love you guys. **


	9. I'm Only Human

**Big giant hug for all of my reviewers! I love you guys. I'd send you all cookies and various other treats but, obviously, I can't do that. So you'll have to settle for this message and knowing you always make my day. **

**I swear, I always mean to get the next chapter up much sooner than it ends up being. Ugh, so much to do lately. So much work, so much writing. I can't complain about the writing though. Anyway, I'm not sure I'm happy with that chapter. Actually, I know I'm not truly happy with it. But you guys deserved a chapter so here it is. **

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The quiet ding of the elevator alerted her that she'd reached her floor. Taking a deep breath she fished her keys out of her pocket, more relieved to be home and just away from the outside world in general than she had been in a long time. She'd wrapped up her case today much earlier than expected, but it had been one of those clichéd murders where the boyfriend kills the victim after finding her in bed with another man and in his rage leaves evidence all over the place. Rick would say it was anti-climactic, that there needed to be more of a story. But to her it was still a murder, and all murders were draining. She turned the final corner and looked up, finding a fiery-haired teenager pacing by her door.

She immediately froze, completely at a loss of what to do. Her first option was to run, but she couldn't avoid the girl forever. She knew she owed Alexis an explanation, that the girl deserved one. She'd just hoped that the talk came further down the road. No such luck. So she had another option, face the music. She had options, but she didn't have much of a choice. She owed this to the teen.

"Alexis?" The girl immediately stopped in her tracks, looking up at her. The emotion in her eyes was one she'd never seen from the wise-beyond-her-years teenager.

"Detective." Alexis regarded her coolly, resorting to her profession rather than her name. It was a defense mechanism, much like the way the girl had crossed her arms over her chest. She'd just never heard the girl use that tone of voice before. She was taken aback for a moment. But what had she expected? For Alexis to be her normally cheerful self? Sure, she'd hoped for it. But she knew better than to think that it would actually happen. No matter how Alexis normally acted she was still a teenager, a teenager with emotions like a rollercoaster.

"Umm, do you wanna come in?" She'd never been in this situation before, she wasn't exactly sure what the proper etiquette was. The girl only nodded, moving far enough away from the door so she could unlock it. The teen's gaze never left her, following her every move cautiously. "Do you want anything to drink? Have you eaten dinner yet? Do you need anything?" She couldn't deny the fact that she still cared about the girl, whether she was supposed to or not. Whether she allowed herself to or not, she did.

"I won't be long." Alexis glared at her, shaking her head in response to each question.

"Okay." She murmured in response, sitting down on the couch and looking up at Alexis who was standing completely still, eyes closed.

"Why?" The redheaded girl didn't open her eyes, her jaw clenching as she spit out the word. No elaboration was needed.

"Alexis," both of their jaws clenched even more as the affectionate tone slipped out, "it's not anything that had to do with you. I swear none of this is your fault. Your father and I, well, we had problems. It just didn't work out between us. It has nothing to do with you, Alexis." The girl's eyes flew open, anger and hurt filling them completely.

"Nothing to do with me?" She flinched and leaned back in her seat, she'd never heard the girl yell before. "Nothing to do with me? Is that really how you see it, detective? Because I definitely don't."

"I'm sor–" But Alexis would not be cut off.

"And some problems? Just some normal problems that caused a normal breakup like any normal couple? I don't think telling someone you never even loved them, that your whole relationship was a lie, and then sleeping with your ex hours later is a normal problem. Do you know what my dad has done for the past seven days? Nothing, that's what. He's been completely useless, can't even write. He barely even comes out of his office anymore. He's not himself." Alexis began pacing again, sending an accusing look or pointed finger her way every few sentences.

"Usually after breakups there are signs of hope, he'll crack a joke every now and again. But you didn't just break up with him; you shattered him. How could you do that to him and then just leave without another damn word? And then to just run back into your ex-boyfriend's arms, how the hell could you do something like that?" She suddenly stopped yelling, turning the icy glare she didn't even know Alexis possessed right on her. She'd never heard the girl raise her voice before, let alone curse. She honestly didn't know what to say, what to do. She couldn't explain, and even if she could it would sound crazy to anybody not in her head. There was no justifying this to the outside world, and that included Alexis.

"Wait, how did you know about all of that?" When she felt cornered she asked questions, trying to get a better hold on the situation. Control was everything.

"My dad isn't the only one who eavesdrops."

"I'm so sorry, Alexis. I never meant for it to be this way. I didn't have a choice." Alexis' gaze hardened even more, hands clenching into fists. She could see that the girl's eyes were getting watery.

"You had a choice, detective." Her voice was stony, the girl blinked furiously in an effort to hold back the tears. "You chose to leave without a word. You chose to break my dad. Usually, between Grams and I, we can at least have him through stage three of post break-up comfort by now. But now not even Grams knows what to do! Grams loved you too, but you've probably lost a lot of her respect by now. Can't say I blame her. My dad's not the only one who's hurting. Your choice to abandon him isn't easily fixed." She was crying now, furiously trying to wipe away the tears as her voice escalated in volume.

"You met Kyra, right? Of course you have, you worked that case with her wedding. Well, I've heard the stories. She was the one that got away for him. But take the pain you definitely saw on his face during that case and multiply it by a thousand. That's what he's like now! And it's all because of you! You abandoned him! Dammit, you just left! How could you do that to him? How the hell could you? We thought you were different! I thought you cared, thought you were different! How could you abandon me?" The teen's eyes widened at what she'd just revealed and she gasped, putting her hand in front of her mouth as if that would push that words back in.

But it didn't and they traveled the short distance to her ears, and from there, right to her heart. The teenager quickly ran for the door, slamming it on her way out. She just sat there, frozen in place by her realization. The whole time Alexis was here she thought that the redhead had been here to protect her father, to yell at her for breaking up with him. But that wasn't completely true. Sure, Alexis was mad about that, furious even. But there was so much more to it, so much more pain in the girl's eyes than she'd seen before. Oh god, every sentence in her furious speech where the young girl had yelled at her for leaving him, for abandoning him, "him" was easily replaced by "me". Protecting her dad had been an intention, but it was also a mask. A wall to hide behind so she wouldn't have to be vulnerable, wouldn't have to let her true emotions show. And, Christ, did that sound familiar.

She'd abandoned the girl with abandonment issues in her quest not to be abandoned. Shit. How the hell could she have been so blind? Her mother had essentially abandoned Alexis when she was still a little girl, and then basically every other maternal figure in her life had just disappeared. Kate wasn't stupid. She knew that her need to be in control, her fear of being left behind, she knew it all stemmed from her mom. But her mother hadn't _chosen_ to leave her, Alexis' did. That made for a special kind of emotional caution. And damn, Alexis had trusted her. The teen had let down the walls for her because she thought she would stay. And what the hell did she do? She left just like all the others. She desperately wanted to throw open the door and run after the confused girl and tell her that she'd never leave her, that she'd always be there.

But something kept her sitting right where she was, stuck in place. That same old nagging voice filled her head, spewing doubts and what ifs until she was trembling. She wanted to fix this, but a horribly familiar feeling settled over her and she was paralyzed. Fear. No matter how brave she pretended to be or how fearless others thought she was Kate experienced fear much more than she thought was normal. Her hands tightened into balls as she fought back the tears. She didn't want it to be this way. She wished it didn't have to be.

Her head fell to her chest in defeat, eyes closed for fear that if she opened them the tears would come spilling out. When she finally opened them, vision blurry, she caught the sparkle of her mother's ring dangling just underneath the fabric of her shirt. There was no fighting them as the army of salty water droplets rushed forward, breaking the barrier and charging down her cheeks. Oh god, why? Why was she incapable of conquering this? Kate Beckett, a damn NYPD detective, couldn't beat an emotion. She was too weak.

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**So? Were my fears completely valid? Was I stupid to think such a thing? Why not tell me in a review? **

**I've actually known exactly what I was going to do with this chapter since I came up with the idea for this story. Kate's not the only one with mother issues. And look at that, she's realizing what we've all known all along! That was the big push. We have other small ones coming up soon...and some happy moments because you all deserve that much. **


	10. Three Days

**Giant thanks to all who reviewed! Virtual hugs for all of you. **

**And I'm on break so I expect I'll be updating this more often now. Woohoo!**

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She took another sip of her coffee, already feeling the caffeine begin to work its magic, and went back to pretending to do her paperwork. She hadn't touched the forms she needed to fill out yet, hadn't even picked up her pen. As soon as she'd sat down in her chair she'd noticed this morning's paper sitting on Esposito's desk, but more importantly she'd noticed the photo accompanying one of the articles. A photo of a beautiful red-haired teenager playing the violin at a holiday concert. The girl was practically glowing she was so happy, yet there was a distinct air of concentration and discipline around her.

She vividly remembered how happy Alexis had been when she'd been one of five violinists chosen to play in the concert, how she'd immediately made Kate mark that day on her calendar. The girl had practically made the whole building go deaf with her squeals after she'd read the pretentiously worded invitation, quickly sprinting over to hug both her and the teen's father, both of them beaming with pride. She'd never been one for fancy events like that, especially ones that required pretentious invitations. But she was not going to miss Alexis' shining moment, not when this meant so much to the elated teenager. So much had changed.

In only eight days her life had done a complete one-eighty, basically turning upside down. She'd read an article recently about a study that had been done, the experiment showed that when a group of test subjects wore glasses that made them see the world upside down these people saw the world normally again in three days. It took the brain three days to adapt to change, three days to get used to the new reality. If this were true, scientifically proven even, then why wasn't she okay? Why hadn't she simply adapted? It had been eight days since she'd broken things off with Rick, eight days since her father had died. Hell, it had been eleven goddamn years since her mom's murder.

She still missed the way Rick's eyes crinkled when he laughed, really laughed. She would give anything for one more late-night phone conversation with her dad, not caring about what time it was or that she had work in the morning. She desperately wanted to be on the couch, snuggled up with Rick, as Martha sauntered into the loft late at night, Alexis looking up from her studying to unconventionally assume the parental role. And she wanted so many more memories with her mom than she was given. She wanted more Christmas mornings and even those regular mornings where her hair looked like a mess as she wandered out of her room, following the scent of blueberry muffins until she found her mom by the oven. This was not her definition of right-side up.

"Hey, girl." Lanie's voice brought her back to the present, back to the hustle and bustle of the precinct where she'd done nothing productive in the last hour. She really wasn't herself, and by the look Lanie had in her eyes the medical examiner could tell.

"Hi, Lanie." She muttered as she tried to discretely hide the newspaper under the paperwork she hadn't touched, scrambling for her pen and beginning to scribble down words as if she'd actually read the question she was answering. She hoped Lanie hadn't seen the face of the girl in the picture, hadn't caught the desperation as she'd slammed folders on top of it. But judging by the raised brow she was getting that was not the case. But she didn't mention it. Lanie was doing that a lot, not mentioning it. They hadn't talked about that night; she hadn't even confronted her about how she'd ditched her in the bar. And it's not like she was about to bring it up. Instead, her best friend chose to plop down on her desk and smile at her, a smile of both concern and mischief. It was a little unnerving.

"So, hon, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?" The M.E. slightly tilted her head to the side, just daring her to lie and say she was visiting family when they both knew that was not the case.

"I don't know." Truth is, she did know. She was going to order takeout, possibly Thai, and sit in her living room with a stack of old movies.

"It's in two days, of course you know."

"Probably nothing," she said before quietly adding, "I don't have anywhere to go." But Lanie didn't seem to like that answer, making a sound that resembled a buzzer when a contestant answered incorrectly on one of those old game shows.

"Wrong. You're coming with me, and no arguing. You and I both know that when I have my mind made up even you can't change it." She sighed, exasperated and touched at the same time.

"But–" She was cut off.

"Kate, what did I just say? Do you ever listen?" The persistent woman leaned forward, narrowing her eyes in examination.

"Fine, I'll come." Honestly, she was surprised at herself. She never admitted defeat that easily. Never, whether she wanted to go or not, conceded that quickly. Maybe even she knew she needed to get away, to get her mind off of certain things. Certain people.

"Good. We leave tomorrow, it's gonna be a long drive so you're gonna have to cut off work a little early." Even Lanie seemed to be a little surprised that she wasn't fighting harder, though she hid it masterfully.

"How early? I'll need to clear it with the captain." She was, after all, ever the professional.

"I don't want to get caught in rush hour traffic so we'll leave around 12 and get lunch on the way. And I don't want any arguments over the radio station. My car, my music." And with that she hopped off the desk and sauntered over to the elevator, not even giving Kate a chance to argue. Not that she would've, she didn't want to be trapped in the car with Lanie's music choices for longer than absolutely necessary. It was already going to take hours to get to Lanie's childhood home, they didn't need to add rush hour to the equation. Lanie had grown up in Rhode Island, in a small beach neighborhood right on Narragansett Bay. It was quaint, relaxing and, well, Kate absolutely loved it.

It was just so splendidly different than what she was used to. Everybody knew each other, neighbors always stopped to say hello to one another. It was like one big extended family. Add that to the fact that Lanie's family was already giant and amazingly welcoming and you had the perfect 90s sitcom, entertaining shenanigans and all. After everything that had been going on recently, she could use that kind of atmosphere. So, for once in her life, she didn't argue. She didn't chase Lanie down and say she had work to do. She didn't pretend to forget about it and then feign some excuse when her friend came to collect her the following day. She needed this. She just needed to forget, even if only for a couple of days. So, she got up and walked purposefully into Montgomery's office, softly closing the door behind her. Since Lanie didn't see her family often they had an extended Thanksgiving, full of family traditions and lots of food. She'd be there for three days. Three days in a different environment, maybe that would be enough. Maybe, just maybe, that's all it would take.

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**Firstly, time to give credit where it's due. I got the brain adaptation thing, which is completely true, from the TV show Bones. But I thought it was absolutely amazing, infinitely interesting, and suited this situation. Wow, I didn't even notice that little bout of alliteration until I reread that sentence. Weird. **

**Secondly, this was kind of a filler chapter. I cannot wait to write Thanksgiving at the Parish household. And well, I just had to include Rhode Island. Especially a small beach community. Write what you know, right? **

**Lastly, review? Please. I'll love you unconditionally. **


	11. Three's a Crowd

**Usually I don't do dedications, or even shout outs. But this chapter's going to be a little different in that respect. One reviewer really touched me and motivated me to write this chapter. This one's for you, Dee Hensley. **

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After a couple hours Lanie had finally acquiesced and let her change the radio station to something they both liked. Turns out, she could be just as adept at whining as Rick. And, of course, Lanie had to amusedly point that particular fact out, throwing the car into an uncomfortable silence and Kate into a defensive position. Immediately folding her arms and glancing out the window, she watched as Lanie finally got off the highway. They'd both spent the entire drive avoiding the topic of Rick and the fact that he was completely out of her life, the tension grew until it was an unseen passenger sitting quietly, but not without a powerful presence, in the backseat. And that uninvited guest was not asking very loudly.

"Kate," their mute guest opted to speak through the driver, "what happened with you and Rick?" And there it was, the subject that had been on both minds but neither had dared to broach. She could feel the tentative smile that she'd plastered on her face for the drive fade until her mouth was a thin line, lips pressed together as her jaw clenched.

"Nothing, okay?" She looked over at Lanie, attempting to smile. It turned out more like a grimace, no sign of anything jovial in her facial expression. "We just broke up. It happens."

"We both know that's not the whole story." Shooting her a pointed look Lanie tried to examine her, look for anything that might give her an edge. She found nothing. After years and years of hiding her true feelings, and not to mention interrogation training, Kate was a master at appearing fine. Lanie sighed as she turned into her old neighborhood, the dark-haired medical examiner's eyes softening as she chanced another glance at her.

"Seriously, Lanie. We broke up, we just weren't right for each other. Simple as that. I'm fine, everything's fine." She lied expertly.

"Kate," the medical examiner's voice was both stern and soft, pleading with her to tell the truth, "please. Please tell me what happened. I only wanna help, that's what best friends are for." What was she supposed to say? Everybody leaves me so I beat him to it. I'm afraid to let people in because I always end up hurt. I can't be loved so I'm not going to open myself up to pain. Best friend or not, there were some secrets that were hers alone.

"Lanie, just drop it." She clenched her hands into fists, her teeth clamping down on her lip. She looked over to see Lanie's eyes hardening at her harsh tone, preparing for an argument. "Please." She slammed her eyes shut, turning away from her friend.

"Fine, but we're gonna talk about this at some point." It was a soft whisper, but she caught it. She slowly opened her eyes and chanced a look at Lanie whose eyes were fixed on the road, concern rested on her face and in her eyes. The M.E. really had no idea what she was getting herself into, just how messed up her best friend was. But hopefully she'd never find out.

She looked back out the window, taking in all the small houses they passed. The neighborhood was on a peninsula so behind each house she could see the ocean, waves bobbing up and down as sunlight bounced off the water. The only other time she'd been down here was during the summer, bathing suits and sandcastles galore. Now the chill in the air caused the teenagers usually roaming around in nothing but bathing suits to seek shelter, and each lawn was covered in a light dusting of snow. The water itself seemed to be darker, greyer than the ocean she saw in her memories. But it was still beautiful, the sight still making her smile genuinely.

Lanie parked in front of a small, yellow house. The bright yellow color giving the home a cheery disposition that was a clear contrast to the navy blue water that could be seen behind it. Five other cars were parked around the house and in the short driveway. She assumed that two of them belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Parish, who always insisted that she call them Paul and Pat. And Lanie had three older brothers, which explained her toughness, so it wasn't hard to figure out whom the other three cars belonged to. She'd only met two of them, Dave and Rudy, but from what she'd heard all four siblings were extremely close.

"Well, we're here. C'mon." Lanie all but shot out of the car, seemingly both excited to see her family and relieved to have a distraction. Kate followed, closing her door and pulling her and Lanie's bags out of the trunk. Much to her relief, their invisible third passenger seemed to choose to stay in the car, deciding to leave them alone for the time being. Lanie grabbed her bag and half-walked half-ran towards the door, relatives already pouring out of the house.

"Lanie, come here, sweet pea!" Pat, a beautiful and slightly round woman, enveloped Lanie in a hug.

"I missed you, Momma." Lanie's grin was just as large as her mom's, pulling back just enough to make eye contact.

"I missed you too." Pat smiled sweetly before turning to Kate and deciding it was her turn for a bear hug, quickly wrapping her arms around Kate's body. She looked over the woman's shoulder and found that the reunited family, all of them wearing the exact same grin, were pulling Lanie inside. After a few beats she pulled away from the older woman, not quite comfortable with all of this affection. But that didn't seem to faze Pat. "Welcome back, Kate."

"Thank you for having me, I've missed this place." This time she didn't have to fake a smile, one naturally found its way to her face.

"And it's missed you." Keeping one arm slung around her shoulders, Pat led her inside. The scent of every entrée and appetizer imaginable filled the air as she walked into the house, not to mention the fact that the smells of several types of pies somehow found their way to her nose. Suddenly, she felt something collide with her calves and looked down to find a dog with long droopy ears and sad looking eyes staring up at her.

"Fiona!" She immediately dropped to her knees to pet the basset hound. Fiona had only been a puppy the last time she'd visited. She'd certainly grown since then, getting both taller and much wider. "You've put on some weight, girl." Fiona barked in response, immediately starting to wag her tail.

"Hasn't she?" She looked up and saw a man she didn't recognize leaning against the doorway. She stood up and held her hand out to him.

"Hey, I'm Kate." He took her outstretched hand, firmly shaking it before resuming his previous position.

"I'm Callum." He smiled at her, a grin that was almost an exact replica of Lanie's so she could only assume he was the missing brother, before all three of his siblings wandered into the kitchen.

"I see you've met Callum. And you've already met Dave and Rudy. Everybody's on the back porch so why don't we go out there and I'll introduce you to the gorgeous wives and rambunctious children of these two men right here." Lanie patted Rudy and Dave on the shoulders before grabbing Kate and leaving her brothers to their guy talk. But instead of heading towards the porch, she was led into a small office.

"How'd you manage to get Callum to talk to you?" Lanie closed the door, and leaned against it. Her eyes showed a touch of awe and a lot of curiosity. But she didn't have much time to contemplate that before her mind was reeling from the confusion that had been formed by Lanie's question.

"What are you talking about? He just started talking to me." Her brow furrowed like it always did when she was confused or deep in thought. Once she realized she was doing it she immediately relaxed her face. It seemed a little pathetic that she even associated certain facial expressions with _him_ but she couldn't help it. Whenever she caught herself doing it the memories resurfaced. Him telling her the way her brow furrowed was cute, her reading about how Nikki Heat did the same thing and smiling to herself. It was just too much.

"Callum's gay and he's taken a lot of crap from people about it. His boyfriend passed away a couple months ago. They were in love. Now he never talks to people he doesn't know when he doesn't have to, much less start conversations with them. He's gotten pretty guarded." Lanie explained softly, sorrow crossing her usually amused features.

"Oh." She wasn't really sure what to say so she just opted to acknowledge it and then let the silence takeover.

"He must sense that you're special." A happy smirk formed on Lanie's face as her eyes brightened. She opened the door and began making her way towards the porch door. "I mean, who couldn't love you?" She knew it was only a joke, only meant to be an amusing quip to break the silence. But she couldn't help but feel a small stab in her heart.

"You'd be surprised." She muttered quietly to herself before following Lanie towards the door. She looked back and she swore she could feel that third person again. The tension and her actual feelings manifesting themselves into her own personal stalker, a tangible form of what she was trying to bury. She sighed exasperatedly, mentally shooed them away and followed the roaring laughter into the cool ocean breeze of a Rhode Island November.

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**Wow, look at how fast I got this up. I'm quite happy with the speed at which this was posted. **

**Review? I might be addicted to reviews. In fact, I think I may have a problem. But don't let that stop you from feeding the addiction. **


	12. Worth It

**Okay, I lied. I had almost no free time over my break. I actually started writing this not long after the last chapter but everything that could possibly get in the way did. I could only write little snippets of this every so often. And so I just finished this tonight. I'm so sorry everyone. I just hope you guys like this.**

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They were kind. They were welcoming. They playfully teased each other and relived decade-old memories with perfect clarity. The Parish bunch was a true family, a close-knit group of people who simply loved each other. Something she didn't have. Sure, anyone would tell her that there was more than one kind of family. That she had exactly what she'd just described at the precinct, that her team was an almost perfect example of her definition.

But it wasn't the same. She couldn't go home after a long day of work and forget about the stress after one look at their faces. She couldn't spend lazy Saturday afternoons snuggled up on the couch drinking hot chocolate and watching reruns with them. She couldn't teasingly ruffle their hair while helping them with their Chemistry homework, realizing all too late that she didn't really remember molecular geometry and quantum theory all that well. And she couldn't help thinking that the void in her life was nobody's fault but her own. She did this to herself.

Tossing the last of her stash of rocks into the waves she dug around in the sand for more, the tall grass rustling behind her as something scurried from place to place. Finding a smooth rock hiding within the ground she immediately pulled it out, ran her thumb along the grey surface and violently chucked it into the ocean. She heard the rustling again, whatever was in the grass sounded like it was getting closer. She began to turn her head when a basset hound shot out of the grass, barking loudly as she waddled at top speed towards her.

She held out her hand and the wrinkly dog sniffed it before forcefully pushing her head against it, seeking affection. She smiled and began scratching the dog behind the ears, chuckling at the low sound of appreciation she received in return.

"Fiona, what am I doing?" She asked, resting her chin in the palm of the hand that wasn't currently petting Fiona. Those sad eyes were once again directed at her. Those eyes seemed to be trying to answer her question; the forlorn look making complete sense in the situation.

"Sitting on a beach and talking to a dog." She whirled around and saw Callum there, sipping a beer and grinning at her.

"What?" She asked as he made his way over to her.

"That's what you're doing. You're sitting on a beach and talking to a basset hound that's probably twice the weight of any basset hound I've ever seen. I mean did you see how she _waddled_ over here? Waddled!" He drove his point home with an over-abundance of hand gestures, arms flying wildly as he talked. Though he didn't spill a drop of beer. Clearly, he was a master at the flail-arms-wildly-while-clutching-an-almost-full-beer-bottle thing.

"Fiona works it." She defended, gesturing towards the dog in question that had taken to rolling around in the wet sand by the water.

"The Fiona strut. You know how Tyra's basically coined the term 'smizing'? Well, Fiona has the strwaddle." She raised an eyebrow at him, watching him skeptically as he downed more of his beer. When he didn't continue and she didn't offer any reply they both just stared at the ocean, watching the waves push and pull against the sand. It kind of reminded her of banter, the push and pull of verbal sparring. But that led to places she didn't want to go so she said the first thing that crossed her mind.

"Why'd you talk to me anyway?" She asked, genuinely curious and thankful to have something else to ponder. He glanced over at her, his eyes clearly conveying that he was a bit surprised by her question. But, after a moment, he understood what she meant, his face falling just a little.

"You seemed just as lost as me." At the furrowing of her brow he began to explain. "I got lost within myself a while ago. I swear it's like a maze in there. All the grief, the anger and the guilt consumed me until I was completely lost, helplessly trying to find my way back to where I was before. I'm still like that a lot of the time, I don't think it'll ever go away. But I'm better than I was before, much better. And that's why I talked to you. 'Cause you looked like you were in your own version of the maze. It was all over your face when you got out of Lanie's car and then I saw it again when you knelt to pet Fiona." He kept glancing between her and the ocean, taking small sips of the beer nestled in his hand.

"It's a good way to describe it. Getting lost in your own maze, a maze of your own creation in my case." It was the first time she didn't deny it, the first time she admitted that she was completely consumed.

"Your own creation?" He set his eyes on her, not exactly sure what she meant.

"My life's pretty messed up. _I'm_ pretty messed up." It was the only explanation she offered. And it was the complete truth. She had long since journeyed past 'fine' and 'in control'.

"What's your story?" She looked away from him and didn't speak, letting the silence hang there as her answer. "Okay, I'll go first." He said, taking a slow breath and tossing the bottle from one hand to another. "About two years ago I met Brendon and the attraction was there immediately. It started off as just friendship, though we both knew the spark was there. Eventually, it became more than that. Much more. And I don't think I've ever been happier. It just felt right with him, we clicked. Sure, we had our ups and downs just like any other couple but we both knew that we belonged with each other, you know?" He looked over at her, his eyes dancing with the happiness of the memories.

"About seven months into our relationship he started feeling tired all the time and he kept getting abdominal pains. His doctor said he had cancer in his liver, called it hepatocellular carcinoma; apparently it had been there for a little while. We didn't even know. We had no idea that _it_ had been living with us! The odds weren't good, usually people with that type of cancer die within three to six months, but we were still hopeful. I memorized statistics and survival rates, spending every minute of my free time researching, trying to find the thing that would save him. Even as he got worse and worse there was still that little flame of hope that he'd pull through, that he'd beat it. He didn't. Four months later he was just gone, the disease finally claimed him. And then the maze claimed me."

He stared at the bottle in his hands, watching the liquid move as he swirled it in circles. She swore she could see tears in his eyes, brimming right on the surface, but they never fell. They eventually receded and Fiona splashed around in the waves, barking at some sea creature beneath her every once in a while.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered.

"I don't regret it at all though. Not one moment. Even if I knew exactly what was gonna happen the first time I saw him I wouldn't have changed a thing. I'd do it all over again if I had the chance. Even if I knew he was going to die, even if I knew that those last few months would be the most trying time of my life, I'd go back and do it again." He chuckled a little bit and she stared at him, completely surprised.

"Why would you open yourself up to that all over again? The hurt, the anger, the sadness?" She inquired, dipping her head to hide the emotion that was surely all over her face. It was no use, that emotion laced her voice too. He looked over at her, a smile appearing on his face.

"Because I love him. Love's worth it, I have no doubt that love is more than worth the possible hurt." Maybe it was because the words were just so perfect. Maybe it was because they conveyed a certain amount of truth. Maybe it was because she had given up on this belief long ago. Maybe it was just all of this combined. For whatever reason, an arsenal of tears flooded her eyes, but she refused to set them free. Though she did make a decision. She grabbed the beer from his hand and downed it, setting the empty bottle down on the sand in between them. "Whoa, what the hell?" His wide eyes stared at the bottle, eyebrows furrowing.

"For courage." She couldn't believe what she was about to do; she was about to blatantly disregard the most important rule she had set for herself when all of this began. She was going to tell someone, someone was going to know just how confused and conflicted she was. She wasn't even sure why she was going to do it. It might've been because after she and Lanie left she probably wouldn't see him for years, if ever. Maybe it was because he seemed like he'd understand. It might've even had something to do with how he reminded her of Rick, of how desperately she wished she could explain it to the writer. "Did Lanie ever tell you about that author who started following me around a couple of years ago?" She asked, her gaze turning to his.

"Yeah, she actually gave me Heat Wave for Christmas last year. Pretty good, I'd read the series if I had more free time. What was his name, again? Richard Castle? Lanie just calls him Writer-boy." She nodded, unsuccessfully trying to suppress the smile that came to her face at the mention of her friend's teasing pet name for Rick.

"Mhm, but everyone calls him Castle at the precinct. What did she tell you about him?" She turned her body toward him, readjusting herself on the sand so she faced him completely.

"Not much. Pretty much just that he was writing a series about you and that you totally liked him but wouldn't admit it. There was also something about eye sex in her morgue, but I wasn't really paying attention." There was that twinkle again, the slight sparkle in his eye that reminded her so much of Rick.

"Yeah, well, I did admit it. Over the summer we both admitted to much more than just liking each other." She felt like she was back in elementary school, talking about the difference between liking someone and _like_ liking them.

"Oh? I'm honestly surprised Lanie didn't tell us all right after you got here, she was all over your relationship with this guy." He smirked at her, yet another attribute that reminded her of Rick.

"Well, it's, um, complicated. She kind of thinks he broke my heart." She turned her face away, knowing the guilt was all over her face. She ran her fingers through the sand, aimlessly drawing different patterns.

"And what actually happened?" And so she told him. She told him everything, from the moment she got the call about her dad to now. She told him about all of the emotions running around in her head, pulling her in opposite directions. She told him about her mom, a sacred part of her that she didn't share with just anybody. And she told him why, the reasons she'd never voiced and the beliefs she'd kept to herself all these years. "Wow." When she finished that was all he said for a moment. She could see him trying to absorb all the information she'd just given him, sorting through it all.

"Told you I was messed up." She let out a breath. Even if he seemed pretty shocked by her story, she was glad she'd finally told someone. Even with all the other emotions she regularly felt swarming it, she felt relief coursing through her body. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"You're not messed up. You've been hurt; you're scared. All of that does a number on a person." She looked away from him, not wanting to see the look in his eyes. She hated pity. But when he didn't say anything else she flicked her eyes back to his. She didn't see pity, she saw understanding. And that's why she let herself continue to open up, that was the sole reason she didn't shut down right then and there.

"I just…" She trailed off, not even sure what she wanted to say. But he seemed to pick up on what she felt, the understanding still dancing behind his eyes.

"I understand, I really do. But Kate, you're missing out on life. It's all about taking risks, getting out of that comfort zone. You could be content, no complaints but nothing to really be excited about, or you could be happy. But to get there, you just have to take that leap, you gotta have faith that you're gonna get to the other side and that those people on the other side of the cliff are going to catch you." He looked at her, really looked at her. She could almost feel his gaze boring into her skin. Immediately, she turned her eyes away.

"Everybody leaves, everybody drops me. Why would he be different?" She dug her toes into the sand, her socks and running shoes resting by the grass.

"Do you love him?" He took her by surprise, the question making her whirl her head around to look straight at him.

"Yes." She said it softly and immediately.

"Does he love you?" At first, she wanted to say that she didn't know. But that would be a complete lie. And what was the use of being completely honest with Callum if she was just going to half-ass it? Truth was, she knew he did. Somewhere, a place she didn't let herself wander to frequently, she'd known it far before he'd said it to her.

"Yes." This time her answer was even softer, almost lost in the wind whipping around the pair.

"Love's worth it." He was just as quiet, though his words were much firmer than her one word had been, no quiver in his voice.

"But what if it isn't?" She argued, her interrogation voice being put to use.

"What if it is?" He countered. "Take the leap, Kate. He'll catch you, he always will."

"I need guarantees."

"I can't give you that. Nobody can, not even him. But he can give you trust, you have to trust him back. Trust him to be honest with you, to love you, to catch you." He stood up, kicking a nearby rock with his shoe.

"Why would he even trust me? After everything I did, everything I said. He wouldn't even want to talk to me." It hurt. Knowing that he probably hated her. That he probably didn't even want to see her. But it hurt more knowing she'd caused it all.

"He loves you." That served as his answer. He whistled and Fiona happily waddled over to him as he turned around, walking back down the beach.

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**Pivotal chapter, indeed. After this chapter the story starts getting less dark. I mean, there will still be those moments where the angst is all too apparent but there'll be a lot of happy stuff too. **

**Again, I'm sorry this took so long. I've already started writing the next chapter so it won't take as long for me to post it by far. **

**Review? I really want to know how I did with this chapter since it's such a big moment in the story. Pretty please? **


	13. Wisps of Truth

**Okay, I'm back. Exams kind of took over my life and I've been having trouble getting the voice right for this chapter. In fact, I still don't think it's right but I'm pretty sure that this is the best it's gonna be. **

**And thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I love you all, even if you do probably want to kill me for (temporarily) separating our favorite duo. **

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He looked up from his computer screen to the dark-haired detective slumped at the desk across from his. To the average person she'd look fine, just a normal day at the office. But coupled with being a detective Javier had known this woman for years now, he recognized the subtle signs. Her shoulders were hunched forward. Normally that wouldn't be much cause for alarm, they'd been doing paperwork all day so she was entitled to being a little bored. But her head was hung low and her pen was moving far too slowly on her paper for him to believe for even a second that she was just concentrating.

She'd also clench her jaw more frequently than usual. And it wasn't out of exasperation or sheer need for something to do other than paperwork, those kinds of clenching of her jaw were normal occurrences. This was more worried, more about trying to hold something back than anything else. And he wouldn't have been as worried as he was if she hadn't been sighing all day. He wasn't even sure knew she was doing it. But every once in a while she'd let out a sorrow-filled sigh that he was sure nobody in the room failed to notice.

He knew there was something wrong. She could deny it all she wanted but he had enough knowledge of her normal everyday mannerisms to be sure that something wasn't right. And he was also pretty sure that he knew what it was. She'd been like this for a couple weeks now, all of it starting on the day she'd come in and stared at Castle's old chair until finally moving it to its new home, the break room. She didn't go near it now, and he was pretty sure he'd caught her glaring at the unlucky people who'd sat in it. So it wasn't very hard to guess what had turned Beckett's professional and rock-hard shell inside out.

Castle. She'd let him in, hell, they'd all let him in, and then he breaks her heart and runs for it. He hadn't been by the precinct at all. He hadn't called either of his so-called 'boys'. Well, technically they had been Beckett's boys but Castle had taken to calling he and Ryan that as well. He was so sure that those two were going to work out, that they were meant to be. But life is just full of surprises, one of the biggest being that Kate Beckett and Richard Castle were not soul mates.

Yes, he believed in soul mates. He may be a cop, but he still held onto some of his hopeful beliefs. He also believed, all too hopefully, that the detective and her shadow were the very definition of soul mates. How wrong that had been. He never would have encouraged either of them to make the jump if he'd known it would've turned out this way. He never would have made an office pool or joked about the crossed lines in their relationship if he'd known it would be like this. Because now the Beckett he'd known seemed lost and she wouldn't let anybody help her find her way back.

Goddamnit, Castle! He'd put so much trust in the writer; so much faith and hope wasted on what he'd thought would be a sure thing. His gaze flitted over to the clock hanging on the wall, six o'clock. His shift was officially over, and he had something to take care of. He'd waited until now to see if Beckett perked up, to see if Castle showed up to either explain what the hell was wrong with him and to see if this was just a minor setback until the two inevitably got back together. None of that had happened, so he was reduced to the plan he simultaneously really wanted to carry out and dreaded going through with.

"Going somewhere?" He turned away from the elevator he was heading for to find his partner right behind him, blue eyes narrowing skeptically when Ryan saw his facial expression.

"Castle's." He lowered his voice, not wanting Beckett to know he was meddling in her life or trying to protect her at all. She'd kill him, insisting that she didn't need anybody to take care of her. A new emotion flooded Ryan's eyes and he swore it looked a lot like anger. Seemed that his partner had been having a lot of the same thoughts as him lately.

"Let me get my coat, I'm coming." The detective turned when he put a hand on his partner's shoulder.

"You got plans with Jenny tonight, bro. Go spend time with Honey-Milk, I got this." As much as he thought of Ryan as a best friend and basically a brother, he wasn't sure he wanted even him as a witness if he ended up murdering Castle.

"She's my sister, too." It's true. They were all family, and family takes care of their own. They were all pseudo brothers and sisters, sworn to protect each other on and off the job.

"Dude, I got this."

"Okay, fine. I'll tell Jenny you say 'hey'." He nodded before turning and walking down the hallway, calling out short goodbyes to his fellow officers.

He knocked angrily on the door, finding that the short car ride to the former shadow's apartment was more than enough time for him to fume until he reached his boiling point. He heard a soft padding in the room behind the door and attempted to control the anger on his face just in case Alexis or Martha answered, not wanting to take out his anger on them. But when Castle was the one to swing the door open the anger hit a new high.

"Esposito?" He looked confused. Could he really be that lost as to why he was here, to what this was about? He knew very well that if he broke Beckett's heart he'd have a whole precinct gunning for his ass.

"What the hell, Castle?" He pushed past the writer, not caring about trivial things such as being invited in.

"Uhh…" God, he was dense.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He rounded on the author, his eyes burning with fury. "Did you mean it when you said you loved her at all? I can't believe I actually encouraged her to take a chance on you!"

"What?" He could see the recognition now, Castle was fully aware of who this conversation was about. "Of course, I meant it! I do love her! I really wish I could stop, I just wish I could stop loving her, but I do."

"Then why the hell did you do that to her? You were such a lucky son of a bitch to even get her in the first place and then you just throw her away once you get bored? No, I don't think so. That's not how this works!" He was livid, his voice rising far beyond an appropriate volume.

"What did I ever do to her? I loved her, I did everything I could to make her see that but she just didn't! How the hell is that my fault?" Castle yelled back, not backing down at all. The writer's eyes were filled with as much anger as his were. There was something else there too, but he was much too caught up in the fight to do more than notice it quickly before moving on.

"How is it your fault? How could you even ask that? Did you just give up on her when things got hard? Did you get bored with her and she caught you with some blonde bimbo in your bed? Please, Castle, enlighten me as to how it's not your fault that she's fucking broken now!" As soon as he said it he knew he didn't quite mean all of that, but he couldn't bring himself to really care. Sure, he never thought Castle would cheat. Castle just wasn't that type of person. But he was furious and that was getting the better of him.

"You damn well know that I'd never do anything to hurt her! And it's not my fault that she's sad, Will probably dumped her and ran off just like he did before. But she made her choice and that's what she wanted!" Whoa, whoa, Will? What was Castle talking about? The anger subsided for a moment as he looked up at Castle and he realized what other emotion was swimming in Castle's eyes, pain. Pure and unadulterated pain. The confusion and shock at finding that particular emotion at home in the writer's soul was enough to get him to take in his surroundings, notice details he hadn't before.

Castle didn't seem to have shaved in a couple of days, maybe a week. His clothes looked like normal Castle attire except that his shirt was wrinkled, almost like he'd slept in it last night. Though with his eyes bloodshot and hair a mess he didn't look like he'd slept at all last night.

"Castle, what exactly happened with you and Beckett?" His tone was much more even know, though you couldn't miss the skepticism in his voice. At least the anger was gone, mostly. Castle winced, walking over to his couch and plopping onto the cushions.

"Honestly, I'm not really sure." The novelist's eyes took on a new look. He looked far away, like he was reliving a suppressed memory. He sat next to Castle, taking him in. "We were supposed to go out, everything was fine. But then she was late and wouldn't answer my calls or texts, completely fell off the planet. I swear I must've called about thirty times. Finally, she showed up but something was off. She was off." Castle turned his head away, looking at a spot on the wall as if it had all the answers.

"She said we were done. No warning at all, just said that we were over. I tried to get her to stay. I told her I loved her, because I do," Castle shot him a look, "but she just shook her head. She just said that she didn't love me. She said that she wasn't sure she had ever loved me then slammed the door in my face. She just left. She left me. Hell, she even left Alexis. I thought that maybe the fears had just kicked in, that she was running, you know?" Castle nodded his head in his general direction but didn't wait for a reply before running a hand through his hair and continuing.

"I figured I could change her mind, convince her that we were right together. So I went to her apartment the next morning, I figured that was enough time for her to cool down. I knocked on the door and Wi–Will answers it. It hasn't even been twelve hours since she dumped me and she's already having fucking sleepovers with her ex-boyfriend!" They sat in silence for a while and he sensed Castle wasn't done. He knew there was something else he wanted to say. But holy hell, Kate was the one to break up with him? Kate was the one to tell him that she didn't love him and that she never did? Kate had caused this and Castle was the one who'd been broken beyond repair? This was a mess.

"She came out of her room and just stared at me with this stony expression. And I just stared back. I stared at Kate, wondering how she could do this. I stared at Will, needing to hit something and his jaw was looking pretty inviting. But I couldn't hit him. I wanted to, I just couldn't do it. So I left, I left and I haven't seen Kate since then." Now the writer was done.

"Shit." He wasn't really talking to him but Castle chuckled anyway, though the laugh could only accurately be described as sardonic. Then a thought seemed to occur to the other man on the couch.

"I'm sorry I didn't come by, I just didn't want to see her. I couldn't see her. Maybe I should've at called or something but, well, I didn't really want to face anything involving the precinct." Jesus, he comes barging in here and starts verbally attacking the man but Castle is the one to apologize. He was really something.

"No worries, man. I get it. And I'm sorry for coming in here and yelling at you. I didn't know, I just kind of assumed what with the way Beckett's been acting." He met the writer's eyes and offered up a small smile.

"It's okay, Esposito. It's probably Will you need to have that conversation with, not me. You want anything?" He shook his head but Castle got up anyway, walking into the kitchen and rummaging about in the fridge.

"Nah, man. I've seen Will-related brokenness and I've seen Castle-related brokenness. This was definitely Castle-related. It doesn't make much sense, but it was." He leaned on the counter, watching as Caste poured some scotch. The man certainly looked like he needed it.

"Who knows wha–" The novelist was cut off by a teenage voice.

"Dad? Can you help me with something?" It came from upstairs, probably from Alexis' room.

"Do you mind?" The writer gestured towards the ceiling, then the stairs.

"No, go help her." Castle turned and bounded up the stairs, telling him he'd be right back and alerting his daughter to the fact that he was on his way.

He couldn't really blame Castle for not calling or showing up. If his girlfriend did that to him he wouldn't want any reminders, he'd want to focus on anything but her. But, the problem was, none of it made any sense. He pulled out his phone and found Ryan's name in the contacts before he remembered his partner was with Jenny tonight.

"Hmph," he muttered to nobody in particular. He wanted a second opinion, someone who might be able to make sense of this jumbled mess. If he called Lanie she'd most definitely freak out and call Beckett immediately and he wasn't sure that was smart. If Beckett wasn't talking to them now why would she talk when her friends basically forced an intervention on her? No, that would just make her pull away even more. He scrolled through his short mental list of people before punching in a number. Screw it, he was calling Ryan.

* * *

**Alright, so the precinct knows what really happened now. Kate can't hide for long. But does she want to anymore? **

**Also, I didn't have time to really proofread this so please forgive any typos. Sorry, studying calls me.**

**I'd love it if you reviewed. I literally cherish each one. Whenever I see a review alert I swear I can't stop grinning for at least a minute, they make my day. So, please? **


	14. Looking Deeper

**Okay, I am so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. I had some major computer issues that were just fixed. Ugh, sometimes I hate how stupid technology can be. Though I love technology, I really do. But really, I am sorry for basically disappearing. **

**I just want to say thank you to all the people who have stuck with my through all of this. Not only this long hiatus but the roller coaster this story has been could have a lot of people running. But I logged onto fanfiction for the first time in forever to find tons of messages asking my where I went and when I was going to update. So thanks, everyone. You guys are awesome! **

**Oh, and expect another chapter by the end of the day. You guys certainly deserve it. **

* * *

She tore open desk drawers and hastily checked the floor around her desk to no avail. Where could it have gone? It was right there two seconds ago. She opened the last drawer, sorting through the papers, discarded highlighters and paperclips she thought she lost long ago. Seriously, where was – oh. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the pad of paper peeking out at her from the drawer. Her breath caught as she fished it out, running her fingertips along the paper almost shyly, almost afraid it would bite her.

Words were scrawled across the page in the messy penmanship she knew was his. It was all too familiar, the chaotic outlines of scenes to be and paragraphs with dozens of crossed out words and phrases that wouldn't see the pages of a published book. He'd been working on his latest book, Heat Rises, a title she actually approved of, before she'd, well, kicked him out of the precinct. After he'd given her alter ego a stripper name like Nikki Heat and the second book a title as risqué as Naked Heat she'd expected having to fight him tooth and nail on every decision he made. What she hadn't expected was the conversation that had come of his latest venture into the series.

_She heard the light scratching of his pen stop and looked over to find him staring at her, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. They studied each other, her trying to figure out what he was thinking and him doing, well, whatever he was doing. His eyes lit up a moment later and he began frantically writing on the yellow paper again. She'd never admit it but seeing him in action, fictional conversations and scenes pouring themselves onto the paper, was kind of thrilling. She'd read his books for years and a lot of people would classify her as a – for lack of a better term – fan girl. _

_She'd wondered how he did it from book one; thinking about his process and how he came up with the ideas she loved to read about. And now she got to see just that right from the comfort of her own desk. And that wasn't even getting into the fact that he was writing about her. _

"_Working on your next book already?" She asked, discreetly leaning over to try and get a peek. Without even looking up he hid the page from her view. _

"_Mhm, Nikki's off on a new adventure in our beloved city." He stopped writing and looked up at her, his eyes sparkling with a writer's imagination. _

"_And what's she up to this time?" She raised her eyebrows and turned back to her work, trying to make it seem like she wasn't all that interested. Oh, what a lie that was. _

"_Oh no, you're just gonna have to wait like everybody else." She fixed him with a quick glare and he backtracked. "I mean, you'll still get an advanced copy, you are the inspiration after all, but you'll have to wait until then. Though I will tell you that the title is Heat Rises." He tipped his pen at her and resumed writing, not paying attention to the confused look that crossed her face. _

"_Heat Rises?" _

"_Yup," he looked back up at her, noticing the look on her face, "something wrong, Detective?" _

"_Actually, just the opposite. Heat Rises, it's no where near as innuendo-filled or as immature as I expected from you, Castle. What's with suddenly acting your age?" She leaned forward, scrutinizing him as he stared back at her. _

"_I guess I've grown up in the past few months. And I have one person to thank for that," she smiled sweetly at him, "Esposito." She glared at him again, lightly smacking his chest before turning back to her paperwork. She refused to acknowledge the smirk she saw out of the corner of her eye and pretended not to notice when he leaned forward so that his mouth was right by her ear. _

"_Kate, I had to grow up if I was going to even begin to deserve you." She couldn't suppress the grin that etched itself onto her face as she turned and looked at him, eyes filled with sincerity. God, she hated it when he was that sweet in the precinct. It made her want to drag him off to some dark corner and thank him properly. She settled for quickly taking his hand and squeezing it before both of them resumed their work, sneaking glances at each other every so often. _

Selfishly she still hoped he was working on it, still hoped that one day she'd see the promotional posters for it in bookstores. Because if he was still writing Nikki Heat it meant he was still thinking about her, he still found her inspiring enough to base his novels off of. If he was carrying on the series it meant she was still a part of his life, if only through words splayed across paper. God knows she'd screwed up her chance to be more than that.

"Detective," Montgomery's smooth voice and the clearing of his throat brought her out of her thoughts.

"Sir?"

"You better pack up soon if you're going to make it to Ryan's birthday dinner. From what I've heard, Jenny worked her ass off on this." She nodded and tried to discreetly put the pad of paper back into her drawer without him noticing. But judging by the raised eyebrows and the pointed look she failed miserably.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't miss this. I'm especially looking forward to Ryan's face when he sees everyone there." She smiled at him, trying to distract him from the object she'd just been holding. She shut down her computer and returned her papers to their files, waiting for Montgomery to leave before taking the pad of paper back out and bringing it with her.

"Wanna share a cab there?" Okay, so much for him leaving.

"Yeah, sure. Just let me grab my coat." She plucked her jacket from the back of her chair and headed toward the elevator, the captain by her side.

"You know, it's funny." He leaned against the elevator wall as it made its journey to the first floor.

"What, sir?" She turned her head toward him to find him smiling at her, his eyes twinkling with a sort of fatherly sparkle.

"That Jenny went to all this trouble. Esposito kept telling me that she was freaking out over every single detail. But Ryan wouldn't care if she brought him to a greasy biker bar for his birthday. He loves her for her; he doesn't care about anything else." Something told her they weren't just talking about Jenny and Ryan anymore, there was a deeper meaning hidden in the words. The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival, and Montgomery gently squeezed her shoulder before walking toward the doors.

"It is funny, Roy. Very funny." He looked back at her and she caught the slight pride in his eyes. It was the kind of sparkle a daughter would find in her father's eyes when she'd figured something out, when she'd learned something. She offered him a small smile in return, her mind whirring from the double meaning she'd caught in his explanation.

* * *

**Okay, I have a quick question that has absolutely nothing to do with this story. Does anybody know Alexis' age? Or even just what grade she's in? **

**Review? Seriously, whether you're screaming at me for doing this to our favorite duo or spreading the love I love them all. Either of those options show me that you're reading and that you're at least a little invested in this. If I can get you angry, even if it's at me, it still shows you care enough to be angry. **


	15. Nikki Heat

**And here's the next update. It's longer this time as you'll all be happy to note. **

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She pressed the phone against her ear and the far-off ringing filled her ears before she was connected to his voicemail. He was late. He was late and she was getting damned tired of waiting around in the cold for him. She breathed the freezing December air in, wrapped her coat a little tighter around her body and gritted her teeth. She had to do this; it was for his own good. Without him she had no series, without a series she had no customers and without customers she had no money. He had a four book deal and she'd be damned if she was going to let all of that go down the toilet because of some stupid writer's block.

She didn't know why he was so down or why he wasn't writing but she'd called him earlier that night to ask about the book and he'd seemed off, deflecting each question about his progress like a pro. Only she was better. It took some digging and some reminding him of what she could do to his career but she eventually got it out of him. He told her that he was having trouble with the book; that Heat Rises was irreparably behind schedule.

God, he'd already turned Naked Heat in late, he couldn't afford to be this behind in the next book. Black Pawn wasn't going to tolerate this forever. Eventually they'd take action and she did not want to find out what that action could be. So she'd forced him out of hiding, making him meet her for dinner tonight at a restaurant she'd been dying to try out for weeks now.

It was a win-win. She got her bestselling writer back and a great meal and he got his career back on track. All he needed was a night out; he'd be just fine. They'd talk, she'd work her magic and he'd be back to normal by the time dessert arrived. Looking up at the sound of a car coming to a stop at the curb, she saw Rick climb out of the cab and smile at her.

"You still don't call me back, you know." She narrowed her eyes at him, pressing her index finger against his chest.

"Hello to you too, Paula." He leaned down and kissed her cheek before walking through the doors of Blaze, a restaurant that had opened a couple of months ago. The warm air hit her and she sighed contentedly, letting it warm her up after waiting for him in the freezing cold. The waiter led them to their table and as soon as they were seated she leaned forward and raised her eyebrow, eyeing him skeptically.

"Alright, what's up with you?" She wasn't one to beat around the bush.

"Paula, it's nothing. Just a bit of writer's block, that's all. I don't need you trying to cheer me up, though I have wanted to try this place out forever. At least one good thing came of my blocked imagination." He smiled at her but she wasn't buying it. Rick didn't just have writer's block. Rick never just had writer's block. Especially when it came to Nikki Heat.

"Cut the crap, Rick. What's going on?" She took a sip of her water and he did the same. He was buying time, trying to think of a way to talk his way out of this without giving anything up. But she'd been his book agent since the beginning and she sure as hell knew Rick's playbook. "No, don't do that. Don't try and think of something that'll distract me or try and half-ass the truth. Don't think I don't know you, Rick. Now tell me what's wrong." He looked up at her, seemingly surprised and by the look on his face she knew she was right. She smirked at how she caught him off guard like that. Nobody fooled her.

"Paula, leave it alone." His eyes were serious and she thought for a second that maybe she should back off. But she couldn't, both of them would be history in the book industry if she let him slide. Plus, she couldn't say she wasn't the least bit curious now.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's – oh," she stared at the woman standing over at the bar, "there's your little detective friend!"

"What?" His eyes widened and he frantically looked around. Huh, weird. The two were dating, why the hell was he acting like this? Unless that detective had something to do with all of this shit, that must've been it. Her head whirled back toward the bar and she sprang up, grabbing a hold of Rick's arm and dragging him toward his leggy brunette. "Paula, what are you doing?" He frantically hissed at her.

"Getting to the bottom of this." She quickly replied before grinning and placing her hand on the detective's shoulder. "Detective!"

* * *

Their group crowded around the large table at Blaze, all of them laughing and sharing stories. She loved it when their crew got together and she had to admit Jenny had done a wonderful job on this little surprise party. She'd invited the entire precinct team, some of Ryan's college buddies and his parents. And somehow she'd managed to get a table for ten at one of the hottest restaurants in town. She had to hand it to him; Ryan sure knew how to pick 'em.

"Jen, how'd you manage to get a table here? I hear people have to wait months to get a table for two here, let alone a table for ten." Ryan put his arm around his girlfriend, pulling her close and drinking some of his wine.

"I know the owner. He's my college roommate's husband so I called her up and asked if he could squeeze us in. They said it was no problem so here we are." The entire group fell into easy conversation, talking about whatever. She'd always liked that about her precinct family, she felt comfortable around them from day one. They had a bond like no other.

"Hey, I'm in the mood for a martini. Anybody else want anything?" The entire party shook their heads no so she made her way over to the bar. It really was a classy restaurant. She could see why all of New York was dying for a table. Simple layout, tables strewn across the large room with an upscale bar toward the back. And from what she'd tasted the food was pretty damn good. "Vodka martini, please." She told the bartender, leaning against the bar while she watched him make her drink.

She looked back at the other nine people who were here with her tonight and smiled. They all fit in so well, even Ryan's old friends had fit in right off the bat. It was nice, having a fun night out with her friends. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a voice behind her, it seemed familiar but she couldn't quite place it.

"Detective!" She turned and was face to face with a dark-haired woman with pale blue eyes. She'd seen her face before; she knew she had. Then she saw Rick behind the woman and it all came rushing back.

"Hello, Paula." Shit, shit, shit. She was Rick's agent. She was Rick's agent and she was here with him. She couldn't even forget about him for a couple of hours without him somehow showing up in her life.

"What brings you here, Detective Beckett? Out on the town tonight?" Paula leaned against the bar and motioned for the bartender to make her a drink.

"Actually, we're having a little birthday party for one of the other detectives. Rick based Detective Raley off of him." She saw Paula's eyebrow rise slightly but she was barely paying attention to the book agent. All she could see was the look of hurt that crossed Rick's face at the fact that he hadn't been invited.

"Oh, wish him a happy birthday from Rick and I, will you? Or maybe Rick wants to go over and say it himself?" She looked at Rick and his eyes were suddenly panicked, flitting from her to Paula and back. "I guess he'll just wish him a happy birthday when he sees him again." The black-haired woman's phone started to ring, the shrill ringtone piercing the awkward moment. "Oh, just let me take this." She whipped it out and violently pressed it to her ear after grimacing at the caller ID. "What?" That was the only part of the conversation that they heard before she walked away.

"So, uh, how've you been?" He tried to smile at her, she could tell he really was trying, but it didn't reach his eyes. But then again, her pathetic smile probably wasn't fooling him either.

"Not great. How's the book coming along?" She knew this might be her only chance but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"It's not." She heard the bitterness in his voice as he practically barked at her before regaining his composure. "I'm having some trouble with Nikki." His eyes were searching the room, looking anywhere but at her. Somehow, that pushed her forward. The fact that he wouldn't even look at her gave her a newfound strength.

"Look, Rick, I'm sorry. I never should've do–" He cut her off.

"Kate, you don't have to say this. We both know how it ended, you don't have to apologize for what you didn't feel." But from the way he was looking at her they both knew that he wished she would.

"Rick, please just listen to me. I know I probably don't deserve it but please, just listen. I never should've done that to you, I never should've said those things. I'm just so sorry for putting you through this. I freaked out and I said a lot of things I didn't mean and I wish I could take it all back but I can't." She looked up at him, searching his eyes for something. She didn't know what she was looking for so she just kept looking.

"Kate," he swallowed hard, "both of us know that you meant some of it or you wouldn't have left. Don't try and make me feel better. It'll only make it worse." He looked over to where Paula was hanging up. "We both know you're happy with Will. Hell, you probably even love him." And with that he turned and walked back toward his table as Paula curiously glanced between the two of them from her spot by the end of the bar. She looked down, blinking away the tears in her eyes and noticed that her martini was sitting by her elbow. She picked it up and downed the whole thing, motioning to the bartender for another. She knew she deserved every bit of it, she probably deserved a lot more, but she still couldn't help thinking that it was going to be a long night.

* * *

She watched Rick practically stalk back to their table before violently pulling out his chair and sitting back down. He started to play with his napkin as she made her way over. She knew it. This wasn't about the Nikki Heat on the page. This was about the Nikki Heat who was currently not faking a smile very well on her way back to her table. Damn it, she knew the minute those two got involved it was trouble. Whenever Rick had problems with Nikki Heat over there he had problems writing, and when he had problems writing then books were late and money was lost. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she sat down, imagining what kind of nightmare this was going to be.

"Alright, what's with you and Nikki over there?" She gave him a look that told him she wasn't going to take any bullshit tonight, not after what she'd just seen.

"She broke up with me and then ran straight into the arms of her ex-boyfriend." As painful as it was for her to say, the man looked defeated. In all her years of knowing Rick she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him like this.

"So? You're Rick Castle, you could have any woman you wanted to. Forget about her. Finish the three other books and find a new character. And in the meantime, go out and find another chick."

"I don't want another woman, Paula. I want her. I have since the beginning. I love her, Paula! I love her!" Oh, damn it. Damn it, damn it. He fell in love with his muse. She lets him follow around the pretty detective in hopes that it'll help him write and it works, it works like a magic charm. But then what does he go and do? He falls in love with her! Of all the stupid things he could've done, he chooses to fall in love with his little detective.

"Rick, listen. You have another two books to write and then you'll be done with her. You understand? Two books. That's it. I'm not letting you blow this. There's far too much at stake and once those are done you can forget about Nikki Heat forever. Now forget about her. It won't help to be moping around your house like a kicked puppy." He opened his mouth to reply when his phone began to ring.

"One second, Paula." He held up his finger and pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello, Mother." She took another sip of her water, listening to the one-half of the conversation she could hear. "No, I'm out with Paula. We're at Blaze. Yes, the Blaze you've been begging me to get you a table at." She chuckled at this.

She liked Martha, the woman was fun, but the actress didn't know how to turn the Broadway off sometimes. "Take a cab home and I'll be there in forty-five minutes or so." He leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows slightly at something his mother said. "No, I don't want you walking. It's dark and cold!" His shoulders slumped a little and she tried to make out what the woman on the other end was saying. But she could only make out muffled noises of exasperation. "Fine, just don't tell me not to say I told you so when you complain about having to walk home later on. Bye."

He hung up the phone and his eyes fixed on her. She saw the usual determination and twinkle in his eye but tonight there was something more. She saw pain in his eyes, vulnerability she hadn't seen from him in who knows how long. She certainly had her work cut out for her.

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**You know, writing from Paula's point of view was strangely fun. I like her voice, even if I don't think I got it down very well. It was still fun to try. **

**Review? I'm absolutely positive you have something to say about this chapter. So instead of keeping it to yourself why not just tell me? **


	16. Stab

**Ugh, so much frustration! Ergh! I swear, I've tried to write this every night for the past week and a half. Stupid blinking cursor on the stupid blank page, I swear it was mocking me. And whenever I managed to write anything it didn't come off at all like I wanted it to. In fact, this doesn't really give off the vibe I want it to either. But it's by far the best attempt and you guys deserved another update. Ugh! Sometimes I hate how uncooperative these characters are. **

* * *

Dipping her toe into the scalding water she sighed and let her robe fall to the floor, light from the candles flickering across the silk as it pooled by her feet. The room was dim, lit only by the candles surrounding her, as she climbed into the bathtub and settled into the bubbles. It was relaxing, an easy way to escape the outside world and just have some time for her. And that's exactly what she needed. A night that had started out friendly and comfortable had quickly turned sour. The worst part was that she could only be mad at herself; she was the one to blame in this situation. This whole thing was entirely her fault, a giant web of miscommunication and assumptions that she'd created.

She'd been so frustrated at herself for completely blowing whatever chance she ever had with Rick that it had taken a moment for his last words to register in her head. He thought she was with Will. It was stupid for her to think that somehow he'd know that wasn't the case. It was a naïve and hopeful-against-all-odds assumption. And as he'd practically pushed happy couples and dignified businessmen out of the way to get back to his table she'd realized that not only had she cruelly left him, she hadn't given him an inkling of a reason for her hasty disappearance from his life.

He had no idea that her dad was even dead, he probably thought he was happily fishing at his cabin up north like he usually was in the weeks after Thanksgiving. He had no clue that she'd _drunkenly_ slept with Will and then promptly kicked him out of her life. Rick thought she was in a relationship with the FBI agent, he thought she'd thrown him away to run into the arms of her ex. God, she was such an idiot. The realization that she hadn't just left him with some wounds that would heal in time but practically crushed the man was a hard thing to hide as she made her way back to her friends, laughter floating up from the table and making her close her eyes so they couldn't see the change in her.

But true to form, every one of them had noticed. Well, not Jenny or Ryan's parents and friends. They barely knew her, let alone saw her enough to pick up on the way her shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of her epiphany. But her friends, her substitute family, they'd noticed in a heartbeat. After assuring them that she was just fine and attempting a genuine smile – it probably came out more like a grimace but she'd tried and that was what counted – they seemed to go back to their carefree dinner. But they all made comments throughout the night, ones a lot like the words Montgomery had told her earlier in the evening. There was deeper meaning hidden in all of them, and each of those meanings somehow applied directly to her whole pathetic situation.

They implied she and Rick still had a chance. They suggested that all she needed to do was open up. They outright said that forgiveness wasn't easy but it could be done if he – yes, they'd even gotten gender specific – really loved her and that she should remember that. Sure, they'd been talking about something completely different than her relationship – or lack thereof – with Rick but the way Lanie had looked at her while delivering her little speech was piercing. It was enough for her to wonder if they knew. If they'd somehow gotten a hold of the sad story of her personal life and were trying to help her; it was ridiculous. There was no way they could know. The only person she'd told was Callum and she'd made him promise he wouldn't say anything. She trusted him to keep her secret.

But still, it was a little eerie that they'd basically nailed it. She'd thought that maybe she was reading too much into it, that maybe they weren't trying to tell her something after all. But when Ryan had gone come back from the restrooms, which you had to pass Rick's table to get to, with a faltering smile and bombarded her with those double-edged comments she'd known something was up. So she'd excused herself, saying she really needed to get home and catch up on her sleep. It was a good excuse. They all knew she'd been working hard on their latest case. But from the looks they all sent her way she was sure they knew she was lying. They all knew she was just trying to escape, fleeing the scene so she could hole herself up in her apartment and think things through.

Leaning back against the porcelain walls of the tub she chuckled at how well they knew her. They really were her second family, occasionally annoying and meddlesome but always caring and thoughtful. It was a description she could use for Rick too. God, she'd messed everything up. She'd blown it. She'd screwed it all up. People thought of her as fearless, but she could be more driven by fear than a lot of people. And that fear had finally driven her right over a cliff. And she'd jumped, she hadn't even looked back before propelling herself off the edge. And now she was falling, helplessly tumbling through the darkness. She was just waiting to hit the bottom, not sure what was waiting for her.

And she'd brought it all upon herself. As she snuggled deeper into the warm water she heard the curt buzzing of her phone vibrating on the counter. It was faint but somehow the city had grown silent over the past few hours, as if it knew she needed to think, so the sound was easily heard. Everyone had put their phones on vibrate or even turned them off at dinner, agreeing that nothing was going to interrupt them tonight. Reaching over she grabbed her phone and didn't bother to look at the screen before pressing it to her ear.

"Beckett." The clipped and professional greeting was a habit, one that wasn't easily broken.

"Uh…hi." She swore her heart stopped right then and there.

"Rick?" The surprise in her voice was all too apparent. But there was a great deal of happiness in there too. She wondered if he noticed.

"Kate…" He trailed off, as if he wasn't sure what to say. She knew the feeling. But the way he said her name, he sounded like he was crossed between panicked and dejected.

"What's wrong, Rick?" He hadn't sounded like this earlier. Sure, she could tell he'd been mad. She easily saw the sadness in his eyes when he'd forced himself to look at her. But he hadn't been like this. Something had to be wrong. Something had to be terribly wrong.

"You know what, I shouldn't have called. Sorry to bother you. You just get back to whatever you're doing…or whoever." The last part was whispered and bitter, she was sure he hadn't meant for her to hear it. But she ignored it for the moment, focused on keeping him on the phone.

"Rick, please tell me." Kate Beckett was not someone who pleaded. But she didn't know what else to do. She heard him take a deep breath and knew he'd decided to tell her.

"Mother was stabbed." She gasped, immediately jumping out of the tub and tossing the closet door open to look for a towel. "She was, uh, she was walking home from a play and someone pushed her into an alley and, um, robbed her." His voice was shaky and she had to clench her jaw to keep from interrupting him to try and soothe him. He needed to get it out. If she interrupted him she might never get the rest of the story.

"A woman who saw it said she gave the guy all her cash but she didn't have all that much on her – she spends like crazy when she's out on the town – so he stabbed her. The nurses say she should be okay, they checked her out in, uh, the ambulance and she didn't appear to have any, uh, bad internal damage. God, I told her not to walk home. I told her she shouldn't walk home alone! I told her…I told her…" He trailed off, quite obviously trying to keep himself together as he began to lose himself. Rick was a writer, he was paid to imagine things, and she had no doubt that he had concocted a perfectly detailed scene of the stabbing that was now constantly replaying in his head.

"Montgomery didn't answer his phone, neither would Ryan, and Esposito's is off. So I called you." She couldn't help the way her eyes slammed shut as he basically told her she was his last choice. She knew his reason, and it was a damn good reason, but she couldn't help the hurt she felt however irrational it was. "Please, you have to get this guy. You have to put him away."

"I will, I promise I will." She didn't tell him that she was homicide, not robbery. She knew she couldn't work the case. But she could make sure that robbery did their job damn well. "Where are you?" She hastily pulled a shirt over her head, not even caring that it was a thin t-shirt and it was probably below freezing outside.

"Kate, you don't ha–"

"Where are you, Rick?" Her tone was more forceful now, making she he knew she wasn't taking no for an answer. After a minute she heard him sigh, giving in for the moment.

"New York Presbyterian." He sounded defeated and she couldn't blame him. He really shouldn't have to deal with all of this. Then again, bad things happen to good people.

"I'll be there soon." She hung up before he could protest again and within thirty seconds she was out the door.

* * *

**Before you ask, no, I don't have something against their parents. Alexis was originally the person who was going to get stabbed but that story line is a bit overdone, perhaps even a little cliche in the Castle fanfiction world, so now it's Martha. But no, I don't have something against their parents. **

**And secondly, for those of you who've been oh so very concerned about them talking about this whole mess (aka all of you) you're going to be getting your way sooner rather than later. **

**Review? Please? Love it? Hate it? Want to poke me with sharp objects until I rectify this whole situation? Doesn't matter, I want to hear about it.**


	17. Embers

**Thanks for all of the reviews! I don't say this often enough, but I really do love you wonderful reviewers. I love my readers too, but the reviewers are extra awesome. **

**You know, I'm actually pretty happy with this chapter. Maybe it's because I usually write better when I'm not very happy. Seriously, brooding is the way to go if I want to write well. But I guess that's up to you guys. **

* * *

She was going to puke. God, she was going to lose her dinner right in front of the future patients and scared loved ones passing through the automatic doors of the hospital. Her stomach churned nervously and those pesky butterflies had turned into a full on swarm as soon as she'd parked. She glanced at the man who'd come to stand beside her, the embers of his cigarette burning slowly and eventually snuffing out as they fell to the ground. She just watched them, twirling through the air and mixing with the snow until their vibrant light vanished.

He exhaled and smoke danced through the air, gathering around his face and clouding his features. Eventually it blew away, escaping further into the night and blindly following the wind. If only she could do the same. He breathed in, the end of his cigarette coming alive as the light danced. Letting the cigarette drop to the ground she frowned slightly as he stomped it out, the orange glow dying completely and blending with its dark backdrop.

Looking back up at his face she realized he was staring back at her now, a smirk on his face. It wasn't amused or kind like Rick's. It was almost smarmy, yellowed teeth peeking out at her.

"Hey, baby. You wanna light up?" His voice was like sandpaper, scratchy and rough as the words dragged themselves across the silence of the night. She didn't say anything, just glared and walked to the other side of the entrance. Leaning against the cool wall she heard him chuckle and lightly kick the ground. "Aww, come on. Come back over here." She didn't look at him, just stared into the cold night as the snow fell around her.

Suddenly she chuckled lightly at her situation, she felt unbelievably sick to her stomach and the only thing that would make her feel better was to leave the hospital, her palms were sweaty despite the freezing cold and even though it was well into the night she was wide-awake.

She swallowed shakily and looked at the man again, narrowing her eyes at him when she realized he was staring at her. She pulled her jacket tighter against her, uncomfortable with his intense gaze on her. She really should be used to this, the staring. Suspects frequently stared at her, undressing her with their eyes. Christ, Rick did it. But that was different. He stared at her almost reverently, as if he was trying to figure out everything about her just because he couldn't bear not to. There were times when he'd stare at her and the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know, he was always going to be there for her. Always.

And now, it was her turn to be there for him. Taking a deep breath she pushed herself off the wall and walked through the doors as they slid open, the warmth of the lobby almost foreign after standing outside for so long. Practically running to the front desk the lady looked at her tiredly, dark circles under her brown eyes.

"Hi, I'm Kate Beckett. I wa–"

"Wait," the lady's lit up and she could see that they weren't brown but hazel, "Detective Kate Beckett?"

"Umm, yes." Her brow furrowed, taking in the sight of the giant grin that instantly formed on the woman's face.

"Oh my God! When he came in here earlier I had no clue you'd be here too. Oh, I can't wait to tell my book club about this. They'll be so jealous! I mean, meeting the both of you in one night is just too terrific." The woman, her nametag said her name was Bethany, didn't seem to know what to do with her hands as she flung them every which way. It was almost a flail, a slightly dignified version maybe.

"Excuse me?" She asked Bethany, looking around to make sure she wasn't attracting too much attention.

"You are Nikki Heat, aren't you?" Bethany's expression grew serious all of a sudden, as if with one word her dreams might be crushed. Oh shit, she had a serious Castle groupie on her hands. Only the hardcore fans recognized her, saying they saw her and Rick in the paper or telling her she'd looked awesome in that article about Heat Wave that had been published years ago.

"I'm the inspiration, yes," she replied begrudgingly, inwardly cursing her luck. Bethany's serious expression was replaced by the grin again, this one seeming even bigger than the last.

"Oh, I just can't believe this! I recognize you from the Heat Wave publicity article a while back. Your hair was shorter then. It looks good long, in my opinion. Oh, do you think you could sign my copy of Naked Heat? I have it in my bag. One second, just let me get it." Why were Rick's fans always the ones that could talk your ear off? Martha had been stabbed, something she was sure Bethany made sure she was fully up to date on, and here she was signing copies of Naked Heat for overzealous nurses. "Here it is! Mr. Castle signed it when he came in earlier. Here's a pen."

Bethany shoved the book into her face and a New York Presbyterian pen quickly followed. She put the pen to the paper when she realized she didn't know how to sign it. Nikki Heat was the woman this person imagined her to be, Nikki was the woman Bethany thought herself to be familiar with. But Kate Beckett was the inspiration; she was the woman behind the character. She found herself wondering just whom Bethany had flailed for, the character or the woman behind her. But as far as most fans were concerned, Kate Beckett and Nikki Heat were one in the same. She scribbled down her alter ego's name and closed the book before handing it back to Bethany.

"I understand you have Martha Rodgers admitted here, she was stabbed earlier." She didn't give Bethany a chance to start talking about the fictional version of her again.

"Yes," a grave expression found its way onto the woman's face, "I couldn't believe it when I found out. Here, let me show you to her room. Visitor's hours are over but if I can make an exception for Mr. Castle I can certainly make an exception for his muse." She winced at the word muse but Bethany didn't seem to notice, just telling her to follow before walking down the hallway. She silently followed the woman's pudgy form, light blond ponytail swaying slightly, as she went on and on about how much of a fan she was. She threw in quiet, noncommittal sounds in the pauses – though there weren't too many – but for the most part she stayed silent.

"Here we are. I'll be back to check on you two soon, Ms. Beckett." At least Bethany hadn't called her Kate. She hated it when fans felt that they knew her that well. It was unnerving to say the least. She offered the round woman a small smile before turning to the door, staring at the black letters plastered on it. After a few minutes and a few confused stares from the nurses and patients that passed her, she opened the door and stepped into room 129, the numbers burned into her mind.

She gasped lightly when she saw Martha in the bed, pale and unmoving. There was none of that familiar spark, no dramatic flair that she was sure Martha had always had. There was something missing, the natural stage presence drained from the redhead. She'd always seemed larger than life but now if it weren't for the constant beeping of the machines surrounding her she would have thought Martha was long gone. Her gaze travelled down the actor's arm until she saw a hand clasped in the woman's pale one. She looked up to find his eyes on her. The look would've been all too familiar if it weren't for the unmistakable hesitancy in them.

"Hi," she breathed, the word almost a whisper.

"The doctors say she's going to be fine. The robber tore her small intestine but they took care of that in surgery. And she lost a lot of blood. But she'll be okay." He looked away from her and turned his gaze to his mother, chest rising and falling silently. She knew he was hanging onto the rise and fall of that chest, the pulse he could feel under his fingers as he held her hand tightly. It was the only thing keeping him from the abyss. She crossed the room and stood at the end of the bed, watching as he stared at the older woman.

"She's gonna be fine, Rick." No matter how many people told him she could tell he still didn't quite believe it.

"I should've made her take a cab. I should've told her that she was not going to walk home. Been more insistent, you know? I should've–"

"Shh," she walked to the side of his chair, "Rick, shh. This is not your fault. Rick, look at me." When he didn't move she placed her index finger under his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "This is not your fault. Do you hear me? There is absolutely nothing you could've done." He nodded slightly and she didn't move her fingers, content to study him. His gaze was far away, as if he was looking through her. "Where's Alexis?" She noticed for the first time that the room was short one redhead.

"I sent her home, she needed to rest." He turned away from her, flinching away from her hand.

"So do you." The words were quiet but forceful, though the caring in them couldn't be missed.

"I can't go home. I can't leave her." He tightened his hold on Martha's hand as if she'd physically try to pry him from the room and she felt her chest tighten, her heart cracking under the pressure of seeing him this way.

"You can come back first thing in the morning. But right now you need to sleep, maybe eat something. You need to take care of yourself, Rick." She tried to meet his gaze but he refused to cooperate. "And you certainly need a shower." She tried to lighten the mood like he'd done for her so many times. But she wasn't nearly as good at this as he was.

"I don't want to go home." She sighed, accepting that he wasn't going to leave his mother.

"At least try to sleep." She left his side, rummaging through the drawers of the chest on the other side of the bed before finding a small blanket. Tossing it to him, it landed on his lap and he blankly stared at it. "Please." He looked up at her then, as if he was scrutinizing her.

"Why are you here, Kate?" The words were fiery despite the whisper-like way they came out. She closed her eyes, this wasn't the time or place for the conversation she knew this would lead to. She didn't want to do this here. She didn't want to do this when he was like this. Not right now, she told herself, before biting back the speech she hadn't known she'd prepared.

"Where else would I be?" She left it at that. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. After a few minutes he picked up the blanket, spread it over his body, and closed his eyes. She sighed, defeat and relief mixing together to form a combination she didn't like the taste of. She flicked the light switch, darkness settling over the room. Pulling a chair up beside his she sat down and stared at Martha's face bathed in the moonlight from the window. The woman looked like she felt, completely powerless.

She turned her gaze to Rick, smiling slightly now that the innocent expression of someone who was far away from this chaos had replaced the pained one he wore before. She rested a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly and relishing the way his muscles felt under her fingertips. Suddenly feeling drained she closed her eyes, images of the brightly glowing embers flickering in the darkness before snuffing out completely being the last thing she remembered seeing before sleep took hold. Hoping that Rick wasn't one of them being the last thing she remembered thinking.

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**I love the word embers. I honestly don't know why. I just love the images it conjures up, and the word itself just rolls off the tongue. Okay, I'll stop now. **

**Review? I'd love it. I really would. Do you completely hate this? Do you agree that I write better when I'm in a brooding frame of mind? Are you almost as disappointed as me that there's no new Castle this Monday? **


	18. Colors

**So I was on a skiing trip with my friend and there was no internet access in the remote wilderness of Vermont. That's why this took so long. Sorry, everyone.**

**Oh, and I'm seriously exhausted so sorry if there are any glaring typos. I tried to proofread well but I know I missed some, even if I can't find them I know they're there. **

**And finally, thanks for all the reviews. You guys rock!**

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The first thing that registered in her mind when she fell out of her dreams and back into reality is that she wishes it was the other way around. She wishes that this special brand of hell were the dream – nightmare, really – and her dreams were the reality, a reality where that rhythmic beeping she heard wasn't a needed reminder that Martha wasn't lying cold and lifeless in a brightly lit basement filled with other people who met a similar fate, Rick didn't look ten years older than he had less than twelve hours ago and none of this had ever happened.

For a moment her world is made up of blurry swirls of colors. The blue of the chair she's sitting in mixing in with the brown of the chest on the other side of the room. Then there's the door, a cheerful yellow. She suspects that it's some half-ass attempt to add some cheer to this place. But it's still overwhelmingly white. White dominates her vision, making her eyelids flutter in protest against the brightness.

The second thing that registered in her mind is that the warmth that had been underneath her hand when she'd fallen asleep was gone, replaced with the cold of her armrest. She looked up and saw him on the other side of the bed, his chair so close to the hospital bed that she wonders how his legs even fit in the space. She smiles at the look on his face but the small sign of happiness quickly dies when she realizes she's relieved that for the first time since she saw him last night the look on his face doesn't hold any pain. That shouldn't be normal for him. His face shouldn't have to know worry lines.

She watched the rays of sunlight play across his hair, flickering and making his hair appear as if it's changing shades. It was something she'd noticed when he'd first started shadowing her. His hair was normally a neutral brown but when the light hit it in just the right way it transformed into a shade that was almost a dirty blond. In a weird overly philosophical way it'd always reminded her of the different sides of his personality.

He's both light and dark; he's a carefree wiseass and a thoughtful gentleman. Right now, his hair is that cute little dirty blond hue, the one she loves so much because right now it reminds her that he has a light side, one that cracks jokes at crime scenes and grins when she suggests they go get ice cream sundaes at midnight. He shifts, his hair turning brown again, and she frowns.

He's locked in his imaginary world of innocence and happiness, the painful reality she remains in completely left behind. Everything's okay there, nobody's hurt and she likes to think that in that world she never left. He shifts again and she can tell he's going to wake up soon and her heart aches for him, because not only is he going to have to face the chaos his world has morphed into but leaving his imagination and being thrown into this cold and unfeeling world is going to cause a certain level of disbelieving shock that will only be thrown into the slew of emotions he'll have to deal with.

It's a feeling she's just getting over. He'll wake up, just as she had, and he'll be confused for a moment, just as she had been, and then it'll all come crashing down on him, just as it had on her. She clings to the knowledge that even after he wakes he'll have a few moments of peace before he has to keep his head held high and try not to drown. In those moments where his eyes will still be getting used to the piercing sunlight and the beeping filling the room will be slightly muffled by disorientation he'll be able to deny it for a while longer.

It's like a caul, that thin last resort of a layer that shields a newborn's head from the world for those few moments after they enter the world. As they're thrust into this unfamiliar and confusing reality they have that protection, the one thing that allows them to just pretend the insanity of the world isn't there. That is, until it's ripped away from them. His caul is a lot more metaphorical and fueled by drowsiness but it's there nonetheless. She took comfort in that, even if she knows that the layer of protection won't last long.

She looked away from him for the first time and locks her gaze on the floor, taking a special interest in her socked feet. She noticed that her socks are mismatched, one red the other blue. She smiles at how it makes her feel just a little bit like a child, her sock clad feet bearing contrasting hues as she runs into the kitchen in search of her mother's famous blueberry pancakes. They weren't actually famous of course, but to her they might as well have been. She wiggled her toes, watching the colors squirm against the white tile.

And then her skin was tingling. It was a familiar feeling, one she'd become accustomed to. As a cop she swore she'd developed some sort of sixth sense. She knew when she was being watched; she could feel it. Call it instinct, something that had engrained itself into her after years and years of being on edge. Call it self-preservation, a feeling that had developed after too many close calls. Whatever she decided to call it, it was a very useful tool.

She tensed and looked at Rick, his eyes were still closed and his chest was still falling and rising evenly. Whipping her head in the door's direction she blew out a breath of relief when the doorway was empty, Bethany had not yet returned with her entire collection of his books for them to sign. But who knew how much time they had before the blonde returned with that overexcited look in her eyes and a fresh pen. She registered a swirl of orange that stood out against the white in her peripheral vision. Suddenly remembering that the even beeping was someone's heartbeat she looked at the bed, finding Martha staring right back at her.

"You're awake." Her tone was a mix of relieved and uncomfortable. She's beyond happy that the redhead is okay, she really is. But that doesn't mean she wants to sit in a room with the actor all alone after she hurt her son.

"Mhm." Martha seems to be sizing her up. She just waits. "When did you get here?" She feels like she's finally getting to experience that whole 'meet the parents' awkwardness that she never felt with the older woman.

"Last night." She keeps her answer short. Afraid she'll say the wrong thing. God, she feels like a teenager being scrutinized by her boyfriend's opinionated and strict parents. She can almost see her thinking it, the time-honored question every parent thinks: _Are you worthy of my baby? _

"How did you know?" Martha lifts an arm and makes a sweeping gesture across her abdomen as if she didn't already know what she was talking about.

"Rick called me, told me I had to catch this guy. I insisted on coming down here." All of a sudden the hospital room seems much too white. It's too stark and too unfeeling. The white walls and that white tile and those white sheets, they sit there with blank faces as she squirms uncomfortably. She takes a deep breath and wills the feeling away.

"Why are you here, Kate?" It was the second time she'd been asked that in the past few hours. Mother and son think alike apparently.

"I couldn't stay away." It was true on so many levels.

"Why?" The actress is nothing if not persistent.

"I love him. I love you all." And there it is, the truth among her abundance of lies. And the room feels too white all over again, like she can't escape. She's in a cell, trapped.

"You hurt him. I'll probably never completely forgive you for that." Apparently, she was as honest as she was persistent.

"I know." She looks away, unable to face the intense blue anymore.

"He'll probably want some coffee when he wakes up." She looks up again, that blue almost a completely different shade as the scrutinizing quality disappears. Both women smile, green and blue sporting matching looks of hesitancy and anxiousness. She stands, resting her hand on the foot of the bed. Her hand looks so tainted against the pure white of the sheets.

"I better get on that then." The actor nodded, that rosy color returning to her cheeks. It was reassuring. Life was still pumping through the redhead. She turned and made her way over to the door, frowning slightly at the giddy yellow. Cheer didn't belong here, cheerful felt inexplicably out of place.

She opened the door and then she was outside, the rhythmic and constant beeping she'd come to expect suddenly gone. And then the world was a blur. Nurses rushing around in light pink uniforms, doctors passing by in scrubs of every color, yellow doors on either side of her. But it was still so white. White walls and white tiles caging in white lab coats and ghostly white patients. It was just so overwhelmingly blank.

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**Alright, I know this is short. And, well, kind of _slow_. Trust me, I know. But rest assured the next chapter will be much longer and much more eventful. **

**Review? Please? I'll love you forever if you do. Okay, so I kind of already love you for reading this but if you review then I'll know just who I'm loving. And I'd much rather love a specific person (or pen name in this case) than just blindly love whatever invisible and voiceless readers I have. So give yourself a voice, review. **


	19. Tables Turned

**So this chapter is much more eventful than the last. And longer. I'm sure you're all happy about both of those things. Just hold onto that thought.**

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She found him in the office.

After she'd driven them home – he'd taken a cab straight from the restaurant and not having a car was what had gotten Martha into all of this – he'd completely disappeared. She was left to help Martha change her bandages, a sufficiently awkward experience. After getting Martha situated in her room, TV turned to some soap opera the actor said she liked because she could criticize their acting – though she suspected the redhead was somewhat drawn to drama – she'd gone in search of Rick.

Really, it shouldn't surprise her. His office has always been where he holes himself up when he needs to think things through. He deals with the stress here, puzzling his way through Nikki's latest adventures, the real murders and much more emotional decisions. She remembers him telling her about the times he'd shut the door and wouldn't come out until the next day. He'd told her so many stories about him sitting in that chair, tossing a baseball from hand to hand, and just working his way through something.

The creation of Derrick Storm, being a father in a few months, Alexis' first actual injury, Meredith divorcing him, marrying Gina, divorcing Gina, Alexis' first date, his mother moving in, what to do with Derrick now that the thrill was gone, realizing that Alexis was going to grow up at some point, acknowledging that it was already happening, Nikki Heat's birth, dealing with the birth of his love for not only the bad-ass yet fragile detective on the page but the real one too. In retrospect, his office was probably the first place she should've looked.

He was in his chair, limbs placed haphazardly in a way that couldn't be comfortable. His frown was deep and his brow was furrowed, she wanted to soothe away the worry lines with her fingertips. But she didn't. She just watched him, her chest tightening at how goddamn broken he looked.

The picture behind him was almost daunting, the spiraling staircase that she'd always loved for its simplicity and infinite possibilities. It'd been one of her favorite aspects of his office. But now, as it sat behind him on the wall, it just looked like he was going to jump. Like he couldn't take it anymore and he was standing on the edge, ready to end the pain. She closed her eyes, willing the image away.

She crossed the room, coming to lean on his desk and running a finger down the spine of one of the books on his shelves. It was old; the binding was cracked leather with no title on it. She wondered what it held. Her gaze travelled upwards, scanning the titles of the books over her head.

Her eyes came to rest on an old paperback with a binding that was so wrinkled and torn she suspected it was someone's favorite. The red block letters sitting there were like a kick to the stomach, _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Alexis had once told her that it was her favorite book and one year for Halloween she'd dressed up as Scout and made her father dress up as Atticus. He never could deny her anything.

"Where's Alexis?" He looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"She went to Paige's." He fiddled with the pens sitting on his desk, putting everything in order.

"Oh, I thought she'd want to see Martha." She moved her hand so it grazed each book on the shelf, caressing the bindings thoughtfully. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his eyes slam shut.

"She did. She came by when you had to go back to the precinct." Then it hit her. The teenager was avoiding her. Her eyes slammed shut, too. She took a deep breath, trying to find the words she'd said in her mind so many times.

"I really messed up." Both of their eyes opened and met for a second before he opened his mouth to reply. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and he closed it again. "I'm so sorry, Rick."

"Don't." His voice was quiet, his breathing deep.

"No, you deserve an explanation. You deserve that much. You all do." She honestly had no clue how she kept her voice so controlled, so firm. "Before I came here that night, I got a call from the hospital. My dad died." His head shot up and his widened eyes met hers, confused and searching. "It was a subdural hematoma, nothing they could do. I broke. My mom left. Will left. My dad left. Hell, my first love moved to California to pursue his 'acting career'. Everybody I let myself love leaves." He stood and opened his mouth again but she didn't give him the chance to talk.

"I couldn't let that happen with you. I've completely fallen for you, Rick, and I couldn't take it if you left, too. So I did the leaving. I ran away because it was easier. And, God, I feel so horrible and so cruel and so goddamn heartless. I panicked and plowed over anything that was in my way, and that included you, Alexis, and Martha. It was just so wrong and I was so wrong. I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry." She was a wreck. She could taste the saltiness of her tears as they streamed down her face. She closed her eyes, leaning more heavily against the desk.

She heard him move but she didn't open her eyes, just listening to his footsteps on the hardwood. It sounded like he was pacing. She heard a loud clang and jumped before opening her eyes, looking for the source of the noise. The baseball he'd picked up earlier was now on the other side of the room.

"God damn it, Kate." She jumped again at the anger in his voice, much louder than it had been before. Sure, she'd expected him to be angry. But expecting it and being prepared for it were two very different things. "Did you really think that I would just up and leave? That I would leave after everything we've been through and everything I've said to you? All of the times I told you I loved you? I meant it every single time. And I thought you did too. Do you know how much it hurt when you said that you never meant it?" His hands balled into fists as he paced the room, his breathing loud and ragged.

"I've been sitting in this office for weeks now, trying to move on, all because you got scared. You've gone through a lot. I get that. Love hurts. I get that, too. Believe me, I can relate to that. But, god damn it, when you were so scared that I would leave did you ever even think about how I felt? How much I love you? How scared I was that someday you'd leave me? That's right, Kate. I was scared, too. I was terrified you'd leave. And then you did." She was clenching her jaw so tightly that it hurt. She moved her gaze from the floor, where she'd been staring as she tried to get a grip on herself, to his eyes. Fury, his normally jovial blue eyes were now a startling shade of furious.

"I didn't think, Rick. I di–" She was cut off.

"Damn right, you didn't think! You stomped all over my heart with those power heels of yours and then abandoned the little girl who'd come think of you as a role model, maybe even pseudo mother. You didn't even think before ruining all of it! Christ, Kate, we were a family." He collapsed on the couch, his face buried in his hands. She swallowed hard as she heard him let out a strangled groan, his hands in frustrated fists. She tentatively made her way over to him, a gazelle approaching a lion.

She sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. He shrugged her off, but not before she felt his body shake. Quickly cupping his face with both hands she turned his head until he was looking at her. He was crying. Damned glistening tears were flowing down his cheeks. He averted his gaze. And then he was no longer a lion. He was just Rick, alone and scared.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, Rick. It's okay, shh." She soothed as she pulled his head down to rest right above her heartbeat. One hand stayed on his cheek, wiping away the tears, while the other came to rest on his head, holding him to her as her fingers wove their way through his hair. "Hey, look at me. Look at me, Rick."

Tentatively, he looked up at her. There was no more fury in his eyes, only pain and vulnerability. She felt nauseous. His brow was furrowed, his mouth a tight line. Confusion and what looked a lot like fear were dancing across his expression. She reached up and traced the lines on his forehead, fingertips ghosting along his skin as she tried to soothe the lines away.

"Someone told me that no matter how much it hurts, love's worth it. No matter what, love is always worth the risk." She smiled tenderly as his expression softened. "I love Martha. I love Alexis. I love _you_. You're all worth the risk." The fear and confusion fled from his eyes as affection and happiness chased them away. She loved seeing those emotions back in his eyes, in him.

"You, Rick, are more than worth it." She swore she saw him smile a little, his eyes lighting up at her words. All she could hear was the beating of her heart and their ragged breathing. Their breaths were mingling their faces were so close, dancing together in such a familiar way.

There was nothing but them. Nothing but his skin under her fingers and the whisper of his breath on her lips. Nothing but his blue eyes, shining and alive just like she remembered. Nothing besides the electricity generating between them, crackling and sparking fires in both of them. She leaned forward and his eyes slid shut, his breath catching. Her pulse skyrocketed in anticipation, her breathing practically halting as she leaned in. The heat was intoxicating and familiar, a feeling they both knew well.

Their noses brushed and she felt a jolt of electricity, making her toes curl. Her eyelids slid halfway shut before she saw his eyes open suddenly. He jerked back, jumping off of the couch and backing away hurriedly. She fell backwards, back hitting the armrest of the couch. By the time she looked up he was already by the door. She couldn't deny the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"No." He raked his hand through his hair, the other grabbing the doorknob. "No, I can't do this." She stood up, approaching him slowly as if she'd scare him away with any sudden movements.

"Rick–" She started.

"No! What happens when you get scared again? I can't take it if you leave again, Kate. I wouldn't survive." And with that he was out the door. It took a moment for the words to register in her head before she followed, running through the loft. She entered the living room just in time to see the door slam shut, Rick on the other side. The slam seemed to echo in her head, mocking her as it confirmed that she'd lost him. She moved to sit on the couch, her legs curled under her. As she sat there, her strangled breathing the only sound, it occurred to her that the Castle loft had never been so deafeningly still before.

Relaxed.

Fun.

Busy.

Active.

Peaceful.

Yes, all of those things and more. But never still. She found herself hating the new adjective, feeling as though it didn't belong. And it didn't, it didn't belong in the pile of words used to describe the Castle home. She glanced at the office door, hanging open slightly. She felt so stupid. She felt so angry and so sad. She felt so completely empty, so deafeningly still herself. She wondered if that's how he'd felt when she left. That's when it hit her, the irony of it all. She let out a small, sardonic chuckle before choking back the tears.

He'd be proud of her for using irony correctly.

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**Please don't kill me. Please don't murder me in my sleep. Just think, if you do that then who will get these two back together? If you violently beat me and then stab me repeatedly then who will give you the happy ending you're frustrated I didn't give you in this chapter? **

**I mean, come on. We all know Rick has walls. We all know about the lengths he goes to just to protect his heart. Would he really just let her back in after everything she's done? Kate has to chase him now. Kate has to be the one to earn his trust again. Actually, that was the whole reason this story was ever started. Castle is always the one earning Kate's trust back, I wanted to turn the tables on them. **

**Review? As always, I crave your opinion. And I know for a fact that you have something to say about this chapter. You're deluding yourself if you're denying that last statement.**


	20. Right Here

**So, I posted the last chapter and then realized that I didn't really have a clue as to how Kate was going to worm her way back into Rick's life and earn his trust. So I figured that out, packed my laptop (Lola to all who know me), and headed off to Puerto Rico for vacation. And I wrote on the plane and was all excited about positing this. And then what happens? My hotel - which was pretty high-end so this surprises me - doesn't have internet access. Anyway, I got back today. **

**Thanks for all of the reviews. They mean a lot, they really do.**

**And, as always, sorry for any typos. **

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Goddamn it, she was trembling. Her hands were actually shaking as she turned the key in the lock, violently pushing the door open. She felt the tears cascading down her cheeks and cursed herself for being so naïve. Damn him. Damn guys. Just damn the whole gender.

"Dad?" Her voice was shaky and she absolutely hated it. "Daddy?" There was no answer. It was late and he was probably asleep by now. God knows he could use the rest. He'd been a complete wreck when he called to tell her Gram was on her way to the hospital. It had only gotten worse. "Gram?" No answer to that either. The lovable diva was probably asleep too. She needed it even more than Dad did.

She closed the door and collapsed against it, letting herself slide until she was sitting on the floor. Turning her head she rested her cheek against the door. It was cold. It felt nice, it felt nice feeling something other than angry and hurt and completely stupid. Her phone started ringing and she didn't even need to check it to know it was him. He had his own ringtone. Her phone was pleading with her to run and never look back. Check yes, Juliet. That's her. Juliet. They'd met in English class. Their teacher, Mrs. Crowley, made her read for Juliet while he volunteered to read for Romeo. She stood on a desk – her makeshift balcony – and he was on his knees on the floor. They looked into the other's eyes and confessed that all they really wanted was to be with one another, when they were done Mrs. Crowley applauded. A week later, they'd done it for real, minus the applause.

Romeo and Juliet. That was them. Who knew their story would have a tragic ending too? Maybe they'd just cursed themselves from the beginning by referring to themselves as the star-crossed lovers. Nothing good could ever come from that. But it wasn't fate that had driven them apart; it was Romeo's stupidity. She blew a piece of hair out of her face and reached for the phone, hitting ignore. The song just had to stop. It all just had to stop. Her eyes slammed shut in an attempt to shut out all of her thoughts, because it was just too damn painful. But all she saw was _her _smile, _her_ eyes staring back at her from the couch with such a carefree attitude. As if it didn't matter, as if she didn't matter. As if this wasn't devastating. The images came in short bursts, flashes of how everything had fallen apart.

The girl was standing in the doorway, her lip-gloss smudged around her lips. A streak of light purple surrounded by smooth gold, her blonde hair almost perfect except for that one streak of rebelliousness. She heard the giggle. She remembered the music playing, a slow melody mixing with the sound of the shower in the background. God, she was going to puke.

"Alexis?" Wait, that wasn't Dad or Grams. She opened her eyes to find Kate staring at her from the couch, the sleep still evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?" This day just kept getting worse.

"I'm fine." She lied and turned so she was looking at the kitchen instead. She heard a small snort escape the detective.

"No you're not." Kate was right. She wasn't okay at all. She was so far from okay. "Alexis, I know that this isn't the right time, but I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything." She looked back up at Kate, blue searching green for something, she wasn't exactly sure what. "Now, you don't have to talk to me about what happened. But I think I saw a carton of Chocolate Therapy ice cream in the freezer. What do you say?" Neither of them said anything for a long time, they just studied each other. Finally, Alexis nodded. It was almost imperceptible, a slight tilt of the head. But Kate was paid to pick up on things.

She got up and walked over to the stairs, disappearing into the darkness at the top. She didn't need the lights. She knew every inch of this house, she looked at one spot and dozens of memories came to mind. It was her home. She collapsed onto her bed, snuggling into the covers and rummaging around for the remote. She glanced at the door and saw Kate standing there, a pint of ice cream and two spoons in hand. She almost smiled at the sight. Almost.

They got settled. Kate sat at the end of the bed, one leg tucked under her and the other dangling off the side, and Alexis leaning against the headboard. They didn't talk. They didn't have to. Eventually, Alexis reached over and turned the TV on and both of them got lost in the drama and sheer exaggeration of Temptation Lane.

"I used to watch this with my mom, you know." Kate broke the silence as Angela Cannon found out that her mother was having an affair with her husband, Alfonso.

"Really?" Most of the shakiness had left her voice by now.

"I got my tonsils taken out and I, well, I didn't want to do much of anything. So my mom supplied me with a constant flow of ice cream and curled up with me to watch Temptation Lane." She snuggled deeper into the pillows and Kate came to rest against the headboard with her. Taking another spoonful of the ice cream, she watched the detective's smile turn reminiscent. "There was a marathon on, starting from the very beginning up to their latest episode. I follow it now – which you cannot tell your dad about, by the way – because it makes me think of her, brings back the happy memories." Silence set in again, both of them turned back to the scene unfolding on the screen. They stayed that way for another full episode, sitting in quiet contentment.

"You remember Carter, right?" She said and Kate turned to her, a flash of understanding crossing her face before she masked it and nodded.

"Of course, you two were crazy for each other." She felt herself wince and saw Kate's expression change in an instant. "Oh, Lexi." The familiar nickname slipped out and she felt a tiny smile etch itself onto her face. Kate didn't miss it. And then the smile was gone. The memories from earlier that night chased it away.

"I went to his apartment tonight. I just needed to get away, to have someone comfort me, you know? I texted him, told him I was on my way, he didn't respond. But that's just how it is, we always show up unannounced. So I get there and let myself in with the key his parents – who're in Italy – leave on top of the doorframe. And _she's_ sitting there on the couch." She paused and Kate's jaw clenched, her face tightening. The older woman reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly in encouragement.

"I'm sorry, Alexis."

"She asked me who the hell I was and we got into it. Carter was in the shower, her lip-gloss was all smudged and the couch was a complete mess. Apparently, he's tutoring her in Geometry. He was cheating on me with a freshman! How could I not have known? How could I have been so freakin' blind? I left. I told her to tell Carter that he doesn't have a girlfriend anymore and just left. God, how could he have done this? How could I have let him?" She broke down, sobs escaping her lips as she collapsed further into the pillows. Kate hugged her, pulling her tight against the woman's body.

"Shh, he's an idiot. He's a complete idiot, any boy who'd do that to you is. Shh, Lexi, shh. I know. I know it hurts." And then she was being rocked, Kate whispering into her hair. It was soothing. It was comforting. It felt right.

"Is there something wrong with me?" She choked out, hiding her face in Kate's shoulder. Suddenly Kate was pulling away, grabbing her face and forcing her to look into the detective's eyes.

"Alexis, listen to me. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are the brightest and most amazing teenager I've ever met. You're caring, funny and gorgeous. I have absolutely no idea why Carter would ever let you go, much less why he'd think you weren't everything he needed. But, believe me, there are boys out there who will think just that." She hugged Kate again, her cries eventually dying down until there was only the occasional silent tear. They sat like that, staring at but not really watching the TV, for a couple more episodes. The silence was companionable; it was familiar.

"We did more than just kiss. He was the first guy I've done that stuff with." She whispered it hesitantly, not sure if she should be letting the words roll off her tongue. She felt Kate stiffen for a moment before forcing herself to relax.

"Alexis, did you…" Kate trailed off, obviously concerned and more than a bit uncomfortable.

"No. We didn't…do that." She her eyes stung. They were probably all red and mascara was probably streaking down her face. She didn't care. She snuck a look at Kate before continuing, gauging her reaction so far. She seemed calm enough, but then again, she was trained to keep her composure. She trudged on anyway. "We almost did once. But I stopped it. I told him no, that I wasn't ready. He said he understood and we just watched a movie for the rest of the night. Do you think that's why he cheated, because he wanted what I wasn't ready for? He said he understood. He said he understood but…" She trailed off, the possibilities filling her head. She was nauseous. She felt played. She felt completely naïve and so damn confused. Damn it, she felt like she was going to puke again.

"Alexis," Kate started and held her tighter, "if that is the reason then he's even more idiotic than I thought. You're better off without him. A lot of people will tell you that. You'll just want them to stop saying it because it's so cliché, but that doesn't make it any less true. You're better than him, remember that." Kate gathered up the ice cream carton, which was now empty, and the spoons so she could put them on the nightstand. Then the dark-haired detective sat up, letting her body rest against the brunette's.

"You know, Alexis, I am a cop. I could make his life a living hell if I wanted to." That earned a chuckle, the first real sign of anything besides hurt and confusion since she stormed into the loft tonight.

"I'd rather just egg his house." She smiled up at the detective, holding onto Kate's arm tightly.

"I don't think you have any eggs in the fridge. But I'm pretty sure you have a load of toilet paper in the closet." Kate's fingers started braiding her hair, she wasn't even sure that the detective knew she was doing it.

"Detective Beckett breaking the law she is sworn to uphold? Wow, I must be some special girl." Kate's fingers stopped, her body stiffening as she sighed.

"You are, Alexis. Don't doubt that. Never let anybody make you think you're anything other than amazing, especially me. I'm sorry. I freaked out. I panicked and didn't know what to do. Everything was just closing in on me. Have you ever felt claustrophobic? How about like you're just being strangled by all of your thoughts and expectations?" She chuckled sardonically at that. She knew the feeling all too well. "Combine those two, add drowning, and you have how I was feeling. So I ran. And it was so stupid. I was so stupid. I'm just so sorry, Alexis." She tightened her hold on Kate's arm and pressed her back into Kate's chest more firmly.

"I know." And she did. She knew Kate was sorry for all of it, she knew the detective felt horrible.

"I'm not leaving." She felt herself smile again, a smile that held all of her hopes for the future.

"I know." She couldn't forgive Kate just yet. What she'd done had hurt and that would take time to heal, she needed proof that the dark-haired woman really was staying this time. But this was a damn good start.

"I love you, Lexi." She turned around and hugged Kate. It felt right, having Kate here. She knew nobody could really replace her mother, fill that hole her mom had left when she'd run off to California. Her Dad tried, he really did try to be both parents. But for all of his efforts, he couldn't be both. It wasn't his fault. She didn't blame him for it. He'd done the best he could, which was pretty great in her opinion. But Kate was coming closer to being that person that she needed than anybody else had.

"I love you too, Kate." For the first time in years, she felt that wound her mom had inflicted by abandoning her mending just a little bit. Kate was, little by little, fixing her. Just like the dark-haired detective had done for her dad. Kate was filling a hole in all of them, had been from the very beginning. They all loved her, whether all of them wanted to admit it or not. Kate was a part of them, a part of the family.

She could feel herself drifting off, exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the day. She was tired. She was just so tired. She snuggled into Kate and watched the TV blur, the voices melding together until she couldn't tell which was which. Her breathing returned to normal, no shake or unevenness to it. She felt better. She'd smiled and laughed, something she hadn't thought she'd be doing for the next week. She'd thought she'd be sitting in her darkened room all alone with gobs of comfort food and about a hundred boxes of tissues. Granted, she wasn't over this. She was far from okay. But she knew she'd get there, and that made all the difference. She caught Kate's whisper just as the dreams pulled her in.

"Sweet dreams, Lexi, sweet dreams. I'll be right here when you wake up." Right here. Kate would be right here, right where she belonged.

* * *

**First of all, I'm going to remind you that this is a sequel to a story where Alexis came home super early from her summer program. Ashley didn't happen. So that's why Carter is here and messing with everything. Carter's a real douche.**

**Oh, and my English teacher from freshman year actually had me do that. Stand on top of her desk to play Juliet during the balcony scene, I mean. How I love her. **

**I've never written something from Alexis' point of view. It was interesting. Even though she wasn't in her normal mindset at all.**

**Review? Please? How'd I do with writing Alexis? How do you think I'm doing with their relationship? **


	21. Closer

**I'm not even going to try to explain why this has taken so long. Let's just leave it at severe writer's block and a mix of a lot of other things. **

* * *

When she wakes, the room is still enveloped in darkness. The TV is still on, she can hear the quiet murmur of voices and sees the flicker of light through the fiery curls she has her face buried in. But there's another sound too. It's not soft enough to be the TV and too close to be coming from outside the loft. Immediately she's awake, her cop instincts kicking in as she sits up quickly and reaches for the gun in her bedside table.

But she's in Alexis' room. Not in her apartment. Not anywhere near her gun. But that doesn't matter anymore because she knows that form standing in the doorway. Rick's staring at her, and all she can do is stare back because she knows he didn't think she'd still be here. She knows he didn't want her to be.

"I told her I'd be here when she woke up. I know I shouldn't have promised her something like that without your permission, but I did. And I'm not breaking it." He only nods before surveying the room. His gaze sweeps over the empty carton of ice cream, the tissues littering the floor and the sleeping teenager still curled around her body. He nods again.

"You want dinner?" She blinks a few times because she's not sure she's heard him right. But she doesn't question it, only extracting herself from Alexis' hold and following him out of the room. He starts unloading leftovers from the fridge and placing plates of pasta in the microwave. He works quietly as she takes a seat at the counter, studying him and marveling at the familiarity she feels. But she knows this is much different than anything they've dealt with before. Sure, they've fought before and been in these exact positions, at least one of them seething. But this was so much more than a fight. This time she doesn't know if the damage can be repaired.

"Here." He places the plate in front of her and she picks at it with a fork.

"Thanks." He nods again before looking away, getting his own dinner ready. She wants to ask him where he went, wants to ask him what's going through his mind because she can see the wheels turning. She doesn't say any of those things. "She came home in shambles."

"Carter?" This time it's her who nods. "I never liked him. He was always jerking her heart around. And I could never fix it." She can see the pain in his eyes because she knows that from the moment he first held her tiny form he never wanted that little girl to feel pain. He never wanted his baby girl to have to know the evils of the world. And he couldn't protect her. He couldn't save her every time.

"I know, Rick. I hate seeing her in pain, too." He sits next to her and picks at his own plate, bringing a piece of pasta to his lips and chewing thoughtfully. He glances at her every so often but they don't speak. The silence is companionable. It's familiar.

"How could anyone hurt her?" Even she is surprised as the words make their way out of her mouth. Because she never meant to voice them, only scream them in her head.

"I don't know. She's too good. She gives so much love and not everyone gives it back. She doesn't deserve this. She deserves to be cherished. She deserves to be loved. But people take the trust she so willingly puts in them and stomp all over it. They hurt her. And for the life of me, I can't imagine why."

"She's more like you than a lot of people think." There she goes again, saying things she only meant to keep to herself. He's staring at her. He's staring at her and she doesn't think she can take being under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes are so blue and, against her better judgment, she stares back. She's probably going to do something stupid – something he doesn't want her to do right now – but she stares anyway. "Do you know where he lives? Because I'm pretty sure the boys would help me hide the body. And Lanie would definitely be on board, girl power and sisterhood and all that." She changes the subject. And part of her wishes she hadn't.

"Please, make it a slow death. Slow and very, very painful." He chuckles, but she doesn't detect any humor in his tone.

"Oh, believe me, I plan on implementing a lot of torture techniques." She looks down and rolls a piece of pasta with her fork. "He was cheating on her, you know. She came home and literally just crumpled against the door. And then when we were watching TV, she hugged me and started crying. I just hate seeing her like that. I hate watching her fall apart and knowing it won't be the last time." Popping another piece of pasta into her mouth, she sighs. She wants to introduce Carter to some of the guys in holding.

"I'm going to kill him." Rick's hands are clenched into tight fists, his mouth a thin line.

"I'll help." He looks over at her and something in his eyes change. They're no longer angry and pained. She can't quite name the expression, maybe she's too scared to.

"You really love her." It's not a question. He already knows the answer.

"Of course." How could someone not love that beautiful redhead? It doesn't seem possible.

"Thank you," her brow furrows and she looks up at him, "for being here with her,_ for_ her." She still can't name that emotion in his eyes, but the way he's staring at her is exhilarating. She can feel the goose bumps breaking out on her skin. And she finds her thoughts slipping from her lips again without permission.

"Always."

Somehow they ended up lying on opposite ends of the couch, their feet meeting in the middle. They've fallen into friendly conversation, the banter she's missed so much falling into place like it never disappeared. It's like she never left. But she did and she knows that fact is hanging over them permanently. But right now, it's not dead weight on her shoulders. It's not pushing him away from her. It's there but it's less of a burden, like they're sharing the weight of it equally now. Like they're working together to push past it.

"I'm telling you, she loved it! Her name was Debra and she sat in front of me in class. I was completely smitten. It was more than a little pathetic. So I wrote her a poem because I was in ninth grade and had decided I was going to be the mysterious and romantic poet type. Debbie, whom I only actually nicknamed Debbie in my head because I was too scared to call her that aloud, loved it. It was cheesy and all sorts of cliché, but for some reason she thought it was the cutest thing ever." She rolls her eyes but can't hide the amused smile. She really can't picture him as the secluded poet. Really, the image is hilarious in its own right.

"Problem is, I was too shy to sign it. So she thought this really popular guy on the hockey team wrote it. And let me tell you, that guy had the brain of a goldfish. As if he could spell his name, much less write a poem. But when she ran up to him and told him that poem was the sweetest thing she'd ever read, he went along with it. The bastard went along with it! I was heartbroken." He's clutching his heart dramatically, a look of pure teenage pain on his face. But she's laughing her ass off.

"I'm surprised you could pick up a pen again, much less write. You're truly a brave soul." He scrunches his face up at her sarcasm, as if he doesn't like the taste of her words.

"I'll have you know that it was quite traumatic." He's pointing his finger at her as if to scold her inability to take him seriously. He pokes her ankle with his toe when she doesn't stop. She looks at him again, seeing that childish pout plastered on his face, and can't help the chuckles that escape her. It's just so refreshing to see him this way. She's relieved and she can't help but be happy about it.

"I don't appreciate this blatant disregard of my capricious teenage self-esteem." She raises an eyebrow at him and smirks.

"Really, capricious? Does anybody actually say that?" He tilts his head at her and narrows his eyes. And then he's on his knees in front of her, leaning down to put his finger right in her face as he voices his feigned displeasure.

"First you insult my poetry and now my word choice? This means war." Furrowing her brow, she lightly kicks his leg and lets out a very unfeminine snort. But he wasn't supporting himself very well. And now he's on top of her, his hands on the cushions on either side of her waist as he tries to balance himself. She tries to breathe normally, she really does. But goddamn it, his face is mere inches away from hers and she doesn't know how to handle this without screwing up all the progress they've made.

She's going to say something and it's going to scare him off. She's going to do something to ruin the night they've had so far. She bites down on her lip, worrying it with her teeth as she tries to figure out how to get him off of her. But she doesn't want him to get off of her. God, she doesn't want him to go back to the other side of the couch. She likes him here. She wants him closer. And then his gaze drops to her lips. And, damn it, it stays there. He's staring at her lips. He wants to kiss her. That thought alone breaks her control.

Her lips are on his before she can talk herself out of it. Hell, before she can even think of a reason to talk herself out of it. He runs his tongue along her bottom lip and she feels something flare deep in her stomach. Because she's missed this, she's missed him. She hears the moan first before realizing it was her making that desperate sound. It's not like her to give in so easily. It's not easy to coax a reaction like that out of her. But it always has been for him. From day one, he's been able to draw out sounds she didn't think she could make. One hand comes up to cup his cheek, reveling in the stubble she feels there, while the other continues to tangle itself in his hair, almost as if she's rooting herself to him. Because, really, she never wants to leave, she never wants to stop.

"Rick…" She sighs contentedly against his lips as he bites down on her bottom lip. And then he's gone, there's nothing but air beneath her hands and the space above her is empty. Her eyes flutter open and she sees him kneeling alertly, eyes wide and confused. "Rick." This time his name falls from her lips as a plea. Don't go. Don't go. It's all she can think.

"I'm, um, I'm going to go check on Mother. Um, yeah." He awkwardly gets up and turns slowly, as if he's still processing what just happened. And she wouldn't blame him because, truthfully, she is too.

"Rick, please just–" She starts to stand but he holds up a hand and she stills her movements.

"No, just…just stay there. I need to think." Her lips are still tingling as he walks up the stairs.

* * *

**So who else is already going through major Castle withdrawal? I mean, it's been a little more than a week and I'm already having breakdowns. How am I supposed to last for four months? Tumblr and fanfiction are doing a fairly good job of keeping me full of Castle goodness though. So at least I have that. **

**Review? Really, reviews are what keep me going. And, really, they're the only thing I'm looking forward to right now. Next week are exams for me. And I have no Castle to fangirl over for the whole summer. So please? Brighten my day? **


	22. Finding You

Normal. She had to act normal and stop jumping whenever a car on the streets below so much as honked. She had to pretend that there was nothing strange about her cooking breakfast in his loft anymore. She needed to ignore all of the changes and just focus on the fact that she's done this before. It's not weird. Right? God, why was everything so complicated? Messy thoughts and feelings were running around in her head and she couldn't quite clear them enough to think straight. Facts. Focus on the facts.

She and Rick had kissed. She had liked it. Oh god, she'd liked it a little too much for her own good. And she was fairly certain that he had too. Okay, that was something. She wanted to do it again. Did he? She didn't know. She did know that he was scared. It was easy to see the sheer fear and panic in his eyes as he'd hastily retreated last night. Why did she have to go and mess everything up? _You've really screwed this one up, Kate. _

She knew she was going to have to chase him. If he was going to keep running away, she'd just have to follow him. She wasn't letting him get away. Not when she knew that there was a part of him that wanted to be with her. Not when she knew there was a chance. He'd chased her for years, now it was her turn. Though she really hoped it didn't take that long for him to give in. She had to convince him that she wasn't going to leave this time. She was all in. Now it was time for him to risk it all with her or fold. She wasn't going to let him run away with his tail between his legs, not if there was even just one ember left burning between them.

She flipped a pancake and let out a frustrated sigh, second-guessing her decision not to add chocolate chips because they could all use the pick me up. Flipping another pancake, she froze when she heard footsteps at the top of the stairs. Rick hadn't come back downstairs to go to his bedroom last night so she could only assume that he'd slept – or rather freaked out and maybe collapsed from exhaustion in the wee hours of the morning – upstairs. She really wished the sizzling of the bacon wasn't quite so loud as she listened for more footsteps. But the foot falls were too light to be Rick's, and they sure as hell weren't Martha's since she probably wasn't going to be moving around freely for a little while. It had to be Alexis. Act natural.

"You're here." She was turned away from the girl but she could detect the relief in the girl's voice immediately, a little bit of disbelief thrown in there too.

"Morning, Alexis. I hope you're hungry because I'm pretty sure I've made enough food to feed all of New York City." Be normal. Be normal and don't act like she fell apart in your arms last night.

"Oh, I could eat. Wow, are those your famous pancakes I see? Now I'm definitely hungry." The teenager flashed her a smile and sat down at the counter before looking at her already almost empty coffee mug. "How long have you been up?"

"A while." Quite a while. She turned and gave Alexis a small smile, piling the bacon onto a plate. "Do you think your grandmother will want anything?"

"She doesn't usually eat anything in the morning, just has some tea or juice." Kate nodded, remembering all those breakfasts in Casa Castle where Martha stood by the counter sipping from her glass and sharing tales of the good old days.

"Right." The redhead grabbed maple syrup and butter from the refrigerator before pouring herself a glass of orange juice. Just then her phone started vibrating and Alexis tensed up immediately when she looked at the screen. The teen stood there staring at the phone as it wiggled around on the counter.

"Alexis?" She asked quietly but when the girl didn't even avert her eyes from the offending object she tried again, louder this time. "Alexis? The teenager looked up.

"Hmm?" Her eyes were watering and her gaze fell back to the phone.

"Carter?" Alexis only nodded, eyes still fixed on the phone writhing around on the countertop. Kate reached over and pressed ignore when the redhead turned away, her fiery hair falling like a curtain to cover her face. The phone ceased its motions and they stood in silence.

"Thanks." It was a while before Alexis spoke but when she did her voice was strong and certain.

"No problem." Alexis started moving about the kitchen again, getting utensils and glasses. "How many pancakes do you want?" The teenager obviously wanted to get back to normal; to forget the phone ever interrupted them, to forget Carter.

"I'll take two. I'm sure Dad will want three because I don't think he's eaten much lately." She nodded, distributing the pancakes onto the plates Alexis had laid out. "Where is he anyway? If there's bacon cooking in this house he's always here in a flash." She refilled her coffee cup while wondering exactly how to answer that question. Your dad and I kissed and then he freaked out and practically tripped over his own feet while fleeing upstairs was definitely not an appropriate answer to give the young girl. Then again, just saying she didn't know wasn't right either.

"I'm pretty sure he slept upstairs." She settled for that and hoped Alexis wouldn't ask why.

"Oh, he probably slept in Gram's room. He's been really worried about her even though the doctors said she'd be fine. Despite all the jokes and teasing, he really does love her." She took another slow sip of coffee.

"Yeah, he does." Alexis smiled at her and she couldn't help but grin in return.

"That's just how he is. You know–"

"Is that bacon I smell?" Rick practically sprinted into the room and sat at the counter, placing a kiss on Alexis' head.

"Morning, Dad." The redhead smiled and crunched on a piece of bacon. She watched him try to steal the piece from his daughter and smiled. She'd missed this. Just as he grabbed the hand clutching the bacon she swatted him with the spatula, a disapproving noise escaping her.

"Hey, no stealing from your own flesh and blood." She pointed the spatula at him threateningly as he clutched his arm and feigned pain.

"I don't like such violence in my house, detective." He took a handful of bacon from the plate as he grabbed for the maple syrup.

"You're lucky I didn't bring my gun then." She popped a piece of pancake in her mouth, chewing slowly and raising an eyebrow.

"Though I do hope you brought your handcuffs." He looked up from stuffing his face and waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Rick, your daughter's in the room." She nodded her head over to Alexis and gave him a pointed look. Why was he joking with her and making sexual innuendos? He'd fled the room last night just to get away from her. This was not what she expected.

"I can assure you that my mind was in no such place. However, I'm quite happy to hear that yours was." He raised an eyebrow at her and she looked down at her plate, trying to suppress a smirk. "Nikki's in a bit of a predicament right now, handcuffed to a steel bar. And, well, I like my scenes to be realistic. Just ask Alexis. I had her tape me to a chair last year just so I could figure out how Nikki would escape that." He lightly tapped Alexis' side with his elbow and she nodded.

"It's true. He's crazy." Rick gave a satisfied nod before looking slightly affronted as his mental health was called into question. Alexis and Rick continued chatting back and forth about anything and everything as she just watched them. Their relationship still amazed her after all of these years.

"Did you sleep in Gram's room last night, Dad? You're never gonna get enough sleep if you keep sleeping in chairs." Alexis drained her glass of orange juice and rested her head in her hand. Rick was silent for a moment and when he turned his head to her she saw all he had been hiding behind the banter and the laughter. He was craving normalcy. His mother had been stabbed, she'd opened old wounds by throwing herself back into his life and, despite how fine she acted, his baby girl was hurting. He was acting normal for Alexis. He was doing it for him too, hiding behind smiles. He turned away from her, shifting awkwardly before speaking.

"I didn't plan on it, pumpkin. I just fell asleep there. And my back definitely isn't gonna let me forget it." She could tell that the slight grimace on his face was trying to be a smile. Really, it was trying hard to be convincing. But it wasn't. Not to people who knew him so well.

"You okay, Dad?" Alexis slowly moved her hand and rested it on his. Rick smiled. Sure, it was small, tiny really, but it was real. It was also laced with sadness.

"Of course, pumpkin." He really wasn't a very good liar. Not when you knew his tells. The young redhead saw through it immediately.

"Dad." She took her hand back, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Alexis…"

"Dad, seriously." The teenager raised an eyebrow, looking almost like a parent scolding their child. Kate would've laughed if it were at all funny. It was much more awkward than funny.

"Alexis, please just–" He put a hand up, preparing to dismiss the girl. But she stopped him midsentence.

"Do you think your mother would want anything?" She paused only briefly, pretending to mull it over for a second but not giving either of them a chance to answer. "You know what, I'll bring her some juice. I think she'd like that." Quickly pouring a glass of cranberry juice, she fled up the stairs to Martha's room. Looking at the red liquid sloshing around, she let a smile slip through. Martha was the only one in the house who liked cranberry juice. Both Alexis and Rick always said it was way too tart. But Rick made sure they had it at all times. Quietly opening the door to Martha's room in case the actress was asleep, she slipped inside. And then she came face to face with a cheery and energetic Martha Rodgers in search of entertainment.

"Kate, I hadn't expected you to be here this morning. Oh, and what do we have here?" The older woman's eyes sparkled at the interruption to her uneventful morning.

"I brought you some juice. Thought you might like something even though you don't eat breakfast." She smiled and handed Martha the glass, only feeling slightly awkward around the woman now.

"Thank you, dear. I was getting a little thirsty up here all alone. It's been terribly boring. Say, would you like to stay a while and keep a recovering woman company?" Martha was already motioning for her to sit in the chair Rick must've slept in last night, propped up right next to the bed.

"Sorry, I can't. I really have to get to work. I can't be late or Montgomery will kill me. It's a wonder I had time to eat breakfast with Alexis and Rick before going back to my apartment to get ready." The actress hid her disappointment well, her eyes already searching for another source of entertainment to force the boredom away. Despite what some might've thought, Martha had always been an early riser. She had experienced one too many of Martha's early morning activities when she and Rick were together – oh, she had certainly not expected the unwanted pang in her chest that came along with that thought. And with nothing to do but sit in bed all day, it was easy to see the red-haired woman was going crazy.

"Of course. Well, I hope to see you soon, detective." She nodded before muttering a quick promise to come visit before making her way back to the door.

"Kate?" She was halfway out the door when Martha called out, her voice hesitant.

"Yeah?" Martha took a deep breath before the actress spoke, sure of herself this time.

"Fight for him." She only nodded briefly before silently disappearing through the doorway and down the hall, planning to do just that.

* * *

**Can I just say that this story is the bane of my existence? Because it so is. Thank God for not-so-subtle hints. Otherwise you probably wouldn't have this.**

**Review, my lovelies? I'm addicted to your reviews. It's unhealthy. **


	23. Broken

She placed the flowers on the ground and stepped back, taking a deep breath as she scanned the words on the tombstone. She hadn't been back here since the funeral. Honestly, she didn't she could handle it. That it would break her all over again, ripping the broken pieces she had become into even smaller shards of what she once was.

The royal blue of the iris' petals stood out against the stark white of the snow, a clear contrast that made her heart ache. The flowers were vibrant. Their bright color spoke of hope and light. And they were _alive_. They lived when everything around them in the cemetery was dead. Tree branches stripped of their leaves loomed above her, snow cruelly suffocated once green grass, lost loved ones surrounded her – and then there were the flowers, a beautiful contrast to her tragedy. A beautiful mess, she couldn't help but think.

She reached out and touched a shaky hand to the cool stone, tracing words that seemed to be such an inadequate description of everything her father had been. _Beloved_. _Father_. _Husband_. The words were carved into the stone in memory of him, but his memory was so much more than a couple of words. It was pushing her on the swings in the park as she laughed and squeaked for him to push her higher. It was terrorizing her prom date in those few moments that she was still upstairs. It was pretending right along with her that the gashes and scrapes didn't hurt but insisting that they get some bandages anyway. And now he was gone, memories of treasured advice and carefree laughs her only comfort in that knowledge.

"_Katie, we need to get going!" She bounded down the stairs and stopped right in front of her father before twirling, showing off the dress she had picked out._

"_How do I look?" She stopped spinning and bit her lip, looking up at him with big and hopeful eyes. _

"_You look beautiful, honey." She grinned at him before fiddling with the hem of her dress, a little nervous. Tonight she wanted to dress up and be elegant. For the night, she didn't want to be a little girl. She wanted to be a woman. "And so grown-up." Her smile widened and her eyes lit up, happiness flooding them. _

"_You really think so, Dad?" Her voice was hesitant, betraying the confident expression she'd worked hard to keep on her face. _

"_Of course. Would I lie to my number one girl?" She chuckled and shook her head as he raised his eyebrows at her. "Speaking of my number one girl, I got you something." Her brow furrowed and her gaze turned curious as he fumbled with something on the table behind him. _

"_What is it?" She leaned a little to the left in a not-so-subtle effort to sneak a peek but he snatched it off the table and hid it behind his back before she could get a good look. _

"_Patience, it's a virtue." She only raised an eyebrow at him, something she'd picked up from her mom. He knew her better than that. She was not a patient girl. _

"_Dad." She half-whined, half-chastised. _

"_You're much to curious for your own good, you know. Never a mystery you didn't need to solve." He laughed as she wrinkled her nose at him before puffing out her chest in a way that was a bit impressive for a ten year-old. She opened her mouth to say something before he moved his arm a bit and she focused again on the object he was hiding from her. _

"_What did you get me, Dad?" Her eyes were narrowed and entirely focused on the spot where she knew the mystery object would be. She could tell he was trying hard not to chuckle at her. Her eyes widened comically as he pulled a white corsage out from behind his back. He smile was just as large as hers. "Wow." She reached for it, holding it with something that could only be described as reverence as she inspected it with awe-filled eyes. _

"_You like it?" He asked though the answer was obvious. _

"_It's so pretty." She handed it back to him before holding out her wrist. "Put it on?" He grinned at her and obliged, smoothing the soft petals before pulling back so she could admire it. Just then, her mom waltzed in from the living room._

"_Oh, baby, you look so beautiful!" Her mom pulled her into a quick hug, careful to avoid the curls she'd spent quite a while trying to pin up as her daughter squirmed. _

"_Mom, look what Dad got me!" She held out her small wrist has her mother admired the corsage. _

"_Your father has good taste, huh?" She laughed before her mom turned to get the camera. "Come on, let me get a picture of your first Father-Daughter Dance!" Her dad pulled her tightly to his side as she wrapped her arms around him, grinning at the camera. After her mom had probably taken about twenty pictures she retreated to the closet to go get their jackets. She smiled up at her dad, arms still wrapped around him as her cheek rested on his chest. _

"_May I have this dance, Katie?" He pulled away from her and held his hand out, bowing down slightly._

"_We can dance there." She eyed him skeptically and fought to keep the small smile off her face._

"_Practice, then?" She stopped fighting the grin and it lit up her face as she took his hand, letting him pull her to him. Her feet came to rest on top of his as he twirled them around, their laughs mingling in with the noises of the city outside their sanctuary. _

The memory started before she was fully aware of what she was thinking and by the time she realized what she was doing it was much too late to just push it away. Same thing with the tears, they'd come without her permission and when she finally felt the wet tracks on her cheek they wouldn't stop.

Eventually she stopped trying to brush them away, letting them fall as she closed her eyes and breathed in the frigid December air. She rarely came here at this time of year. It's too hard to look at the grave beside her father's, take in the familiar view of the cemetery, feel the chilled wind go straight through her jacket and into her bones, and not be consumed by a memory she'd much rather forget.

_She huddled close to her father as he wrapped an arm around her. Not for warmth – she was much too numb to feel the cold anyway – but for comfort. They were falling apart. They'd each felt something inside of them snap that night they'd come home to find that cop waiting for them, and now they each felt as if someone was twisting a knife inside the wound. They were two broken people clinging to each other for support, silently asking the other to save them. To make it a nightmare and nothing more, and not something entirely too real that would haunt them when they were awake as well as in their dreams. _

_She felt something wet on the top of her head and she knew her dad was crying, something they'd both been doing too much of lately. She'd cried herself to sleep night after night, and she was fairly sure her dad had done the same. Her cheeks were unusually dry. Tears just would not come, like she had no more left. Like she just didn't have them in her anymore, the heavy burden of tragedy now a constant in her life that she'd grown accustomed to. The abyss that she felt herself falling into was no longer frightening. It was just there. _

_Everyone else had left by now, leaving the father and daughter to mourn in private. There was no snow on the ground despite the cold and flower petals that had been blown off of the casket by the wind littered the grass. Silence hung between them, refusing to budge the few times she opened her mouth to say something, anything. Words wouldn't come. She didn't want to say it out loud. That made it real. But she couldn't bear to stand in resolute silence with her dad in front of her mother's grave either. Not at nineteen years old. Mothers weren't supposed to die that early. _

"_She's gone." She hadn't meant to voice the thought but somehow it slipped from her lips, her voice barely a shaky whisper. _

"_I still come home everyday expecting her to be waiting there. And when she isn't, I shatter all over again." And that's what they were: shattered people. They would never get their old lives back. They would never recover from this. They would only learn to deal with the brokenness, even if that seemed impossible at the moment._

"_I keep thinking she's gonna pop out of some room and tell me that it was only a joke, that she's still here. I wouldn't even be mad. I just want her back." Her dad tightened his hold on her and she sank into him._

"_Me too, Katie. Me too." It was then that she finally felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. She buried her face in her dad's neck and sobbed, shoulders heaving as she gasped for breath. He just held her, tears of his own streaming down his face. When the tears finally subsided and neither of them could take standing there anymore, he pulled away and she wiped at her cheeks. _

"_Come on, let's go home." She said and turned to look at the gravesite one more time before closing her eyes and taking a step toward the car. Her dad was right behind her, a hand on her shoulder. _

"_I could sure use a drink right now." _

She would always wish she hadn't let him have that drink. She would always wish she had kept him away from the bottle. But she hadn't. And he'd taken them both down with his addiction. He'd wanted to forget, to feel numb. Instead, he'd taken what was left of them and their relationship and stomped on it.

_She hesitantly opened the door to her dad's house and peered in, hoping to see something that she knew wasn't going to be there. She hoped that there wouldn't be beer bottles littering the floor, the electricity would be on because he actually paid the bill, and that her dad would be sober and waiting for her in the kitchen. _

_None of that happened. Instead she found herself picking up bottles and cans on her way to the darkened living room, only to find her father in his chair as he nursed a beer. She sighed before going to grab a trash bag. Someone had to clean this house. Someone had to take care of him. And if he wasn't going to, it became her responsibility. Just one of many. _

"_Dad?" He didn't look at her, only grumbled and continued staring at the wall. "Dad!" He looked over at her, taking another sip from the bottle in his hand. _

"_What?" She ignored how he practically hissed it at her, showing no reaction to his tone. _

"_Dad, did you go to work today?" The number of cans and bottles was much too high for only an hour or two of drinking. No, he'd been at it all day. She took his silence as confirmation. "Dad, your water is going to get shut off again." She flicked the light switch and, as expected, the room remained dark. "The electricity has already been turned off." He only grumbled again and she let out an exasperated sigh. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and said the words she'd been thinking for months._

_ "Dad, you have a problem." _

_ "No, I don't." He turned to look at her and she almost jumped at the look in his eyes. Almost. _

_ "Really? Then what exactly do you call missing work in favor of drinking the day away? What's your excuse for your electricity being shut off and the floor being covered in bottles, huh? Dad, face it, you have a problem!" She was tired. She was tired of worrying about him all the damn time, tired of having to take care of him and tired of him pretending that he was the only one who was hurting. He got up and staggered over to her, leaning on the doorway. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. _

_ "I don't have a problem." If he hadn't slightly slurred the words he might've sounded almost convincing. _

_ "You're an alcoholic." There, she said it. She said the word she hadn't even let herself think. His eyes flared and he leaned further into the wall. _

_ "No! I just have a few drinks. I'm not hurting anybody!" He was yelling now, spittle landing on her cheeks as she clenched her jaw. _

_ "Not hurting anybody? Please." She put her hands on her hips and leaned further into his space. "You're hurting yourself. You're hurting me. Do you know what it's like being in college and having to take care of your father, to worry about him all the time because you know that something is going to happen to him eventually? Do you understand what it feels like to lose your mom to what you know was not 'random gang violence' and then your dad to the bottle?" She spat the words at him and he turned away, retreating to the other side of the room. _

_ "It hurts. It hurts too much." He had his back turned to her but she heard the words clearly._

_ "And you think that I'm not hurting too? I think about her everyday. And it's always just as painful as it was when we first found out." She took a step toward him, hand reaching for him, when he turned around and she visibly shrunk at the look in his eyes. She stopped in her tracks._

_ "You don't have to be here everyday! You don't have to see her in everything you do. You don't have to look at the kitchen she used to cook her famous pancakes in, you don't have to sit on the couch where you used to curl up and watch movies together, you don't have to sleep in the bed you used to share with her! You don't have to live with a ghost! And it hurts. So what if I wanna make a little bit of the pain go away? So what if I just want to be numb for a change?" He was gesticulating wildly and swaying a little. His voice was furious and pained. He looked and sounded broken. But she was too. And he couldn't seem to see that._

_ "I shattered the day she died." Her voice was a deadly calm. "I broke just as much as you did. I miss her just as much as you. You're not the only one hurting, Dad. But I haven't thrown my life away. Not like you." He stalked towards her and she straightened her spine in preparation of another yelling match. But he just brushed by her, slamming the bedroom door. And then she was alone in a sea of beer bottles, the very same ones that had destroyed her father. So she tightened her hold on the trash bag and began to clean them up. _

It had taken her years to finally get him to admit it. And a little longer for him to go to an AA meeting. He'd pushed her to the edge, and she'd told him that she couldn't lose him too. She wouldn't survive it. And so he'd gone for her, he'd gotten sober for her. He'd gotten himself on the right path only for him to be taken too soon anyway. She felt herself tear up again but she refused to let the tears fall.

She looked to the left and saw her mother's tombstone staring back at her, a sight she knew perfectly from memory. She was glad they were finally with each other, resting side by side. But that left her all alone and dealing with the early departure of two parents. If she'd been shattered when her mom died, she didn't know what to call herself now. Because she was way past the point of shattered.

* * *

**A huge thanks is owed to daphnebeauty. She is the sole reason for where this story is going to end up. Let's all give her a giant round of applause. **

**So I am fully aware that most of this chapter is flashbacks. This is the only chapter that will be that way. **

**Review, my dears? You probably already know this, but I'm addicted to reviews. If I were on a desert island and could only choose three things to bring, one of them would be your reviews. You may laugh at that but it's totally true. **


	24. Middle Ground

The elevator ride up to her apartment was quiet, deafeningly so. She appreciated the silence. There was no story from Mr. Feinstein about his grandchildren, no laughter from that adorably shy little boy she still didn't know the name of down the hall, and thankfully Mrs. Peabody had refrained from trying to report more suspicious behavior to her like she did about once every week. She wasn't in the mood to talk. It was more of a sulk in the bathtub kind of day.

The elevator dinged and she stepped out, looking down and trudging forward. If she didn't make eye contact maybe no one would talk to her. Maybe no one would notice the frozen tracks from tears on her face. Maybe nobody would comment on the blue flower she clutched much too roughly in her hand. Maybe no one would shoot her a sympathetic glance or feed her pity-filled words that they thought would help. She just wanted to be left alone.

Those hopes were dashed when she looked up. He was standing outside her door clutching the jacket she'd left at his place yesterday when she'd left in a flurry of promises to come by soon and what she knew hadn't been subtle glances toward him. His hand was raised as if to knock but as she stood there watching him he didn't move an inch, a torn expression on his face. He seemed to make up his mind, determination settling onto his face, as he finally knocked.

"Hi." He whirled around to face her and quickly held up the jacket.

"You left this at the loft." His eyes didn't leave hers.

"Thanks." Her eyes didn't stray either. Neither of them moved. He didn't attempt to hand over the jacket and she didn't try to take it. The chilling silence settled back in. And then she was moving toward him, unlocking her door and walking inside. She didn't take the jacket. She left the door wide open behind her as she wandered into her kitchen. She hoped he'd get the message. Even if she wasn't sure why she was sending it.

"Do you want anything?" That seemed to spur him into action. He followed her into the apartment and closed the door, still clutching her coat.

"Some wine would be nice." If he had a glass of wine then he had an excuse to stay. If he didn't hand the jacket over then he could hang onto excuses and not have to acknowledge the real reason he was in her apartment again. She could too.

"Okay." She poured for both of them and he moved to sit on the couch. The whole thing felt so foreign. And yet, somewhere inside of her she felt like this was the most natural thing in the world. She couldn't quite figure out if she felt like she knew the man sitting on her couch completely or if he was a perfect stranger to her. She guessed that it was a little of both. Realizing that she'd been done pouring the wine minutes ago, she picked up the glasses and walked into the living room. She put both glasses on the table and settled herself in the chair, the coffee table resting between them.

He was staring at the coat in his hands, fiddling with one of the buttons. The wine wasn't touched and nothing was said for a few minutes. Finally, he looked up but didn't quite make it to her eyes, his own eyes finally catching sight of the bright flower in her hands. He didn't look at her but she could see the question in his gaze anyway. The way he cocked his head slightly to the left and knitted his eyebrows together was a dead giveaway too.

"I went to see my parents today." He tried to connect his gaze with hers but this time she was the one to avoid it. She didn't really want to read the emotion in his eyes. She knew that whichever one was actually there would hurt in its own way. And so she looked at the wine on the table, still exactly where she'd placed it.

"I'm sorry." His voice was a low rumble, slightly tense with the strain of holding something back. What that was exactly, she wasn't sure.

"You shouldn't be. It's not your fault. It's not even my fault. No matter how many times I think it is, it's not. And now I'm an orphan. I'm an orphan and it's not _anybody's_ fault." She really hadn't meant to tell him this. She hadn't meant to share that particular thought with anyone. But he'd brought her coat over and she'd wordlessly invited him in. She was guessing neither of them had really planned on those things either.

"Nothing lasts. Nothing is forever. Everything has to end eventually. Sometimes you can see the end clearly from the beginning and sometimes it's so abrupt that you're left with nothing but a sense of vertigo, but it all ends just the same." She looked up at him then, searching for something she both hoped that to find and bury forever. What it was she was searching for was unclear to her but she had a strange urge to both lock it away and embrace it.

"I don't think that's true." Something flickered in his eyes as he began to speak. "There are things that transcend time. Hope, faith, _love_ – those don't have an end. They're always there. Maybe they're just lurking in the shadows looking for the right time to reveal themselves, maybe they're right in front of you as you're looking somewhere else, or maybe you just don't want to see them. But they've been there all along and they will last much longer than you ever will. Much longer than you want them to sometimes." She looked away and he followed suit. This was it. This was the conversation they had both known was coming the moment he'd called her from the hospital. She fidgeted with her father's watch before moving to finally take her glass of wine.

"People leave." She took a sip of wine and sat back in the chair, twirling the glass by the stem. "People that you love, people that love you, the ones you'd thought would stay forever, the people who thought you were their forever. Everyone leaves."

"Sometimes. But there are a few people that don't leave. There are some that stay." He had picked up his own glass of wine though he hadn't taken a sip, content to merely hold it in his hand as he stared at the wall.

"But how do you know?" He didn't have to ask what she meant and she didn't feel the need to clarify, they both knew what they were talking about by now.

"You don't. You're never 100% sure with guarantees and piles of irrefutable evidence. You just have to jump." She saw him run a hand through his hair as she looked up from her wine.

"You could fall."

"Or you could fly."

Silence blanketed the room as they sipped their wine, sneaking glances at the other before looking away hurriedly. About a million times she must've opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. She saw him do the same.

"It's cruel, that we have to suffer so much to find happiness." It seemed that her words were becoming big fans of slipping out of her mouth unfiltered.

"I like to think of it more like you kiss enough frogs, you eventually find your one." That got a laugh out of her, even if it didn't seem to amuse him at all. "Sometimes it's just a lot harder to differentiate the frogs from your one. I still don't know what you are." She stopped chuckling. He looked up at her and studied her face for a moment. If she didn't know better she'd say that he somehow got a look at her soul.

"When you left, everything turned to chaos. My thoughts were all over the place, my emotions were scattered, and not even writing could calm me down. _I couldn't even write, Kate. _Not just Nikki Heat, I couldn't write anything. I couldn't focus on anything besides you. I found you in characters that I'd dreamt up long before Nikki Heat and long before you." He swallowed hard and she leaned forward, hand hovering just above her knee, it had moved from its previous place but wasn't quite sure where it was going.

"I saw you in words that had nothing to do with you. I saw you when I tried to forget, I smelled that signature scent of yours when I tried to escape from what had become my reality, I heard your laugh when I was trying to make sense of it all, and I felt your skin underneath my fingertips as I typed. You were in everything but you weren't there." Her hand finally came to rest on top of his from across the table. It was a slightly awkward angle but she found that she didn't really care.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered it but it was loud in the silence that had settled over them. She was sure he'd heard it but he didn't acknowledge it. She thought that maybe he wasn't really sure what to do with her apology.

"When you showed up after Mother's…after she was stabbed you just calmed me. You made things better. My world wasn't chaos and I could finally relax." He slipped his hand out from under hers, bringing it back to his side as he took another sip of wine. She followed suit. "And then I saw you when I woke up, I felt your hand on my arm and it sunk in that you were actually there with me. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers down your cheek, I almost did. I lifted my hand to touch you but before I could I saw his hands on you. Will's hands were roaming everywhere on you. His lips were everywhere I couldn't be." He closed his eyes and shook is head lightly, as if to dispel the images. "You make it so much better and bring everything back at the same time."

She closed her eyes too, trying to shake away the image of his pained face. But it was no use. The pain was perfectly conveyed through his tone. His words. Everything about him screamed brokenness and she couldn't stand that she'd done that to him. To anyone, really. But she could've dealt with it and moved on, if it were anyone else she could've continued running. But for the life of her, she could never stray too far away from him when he was happy and whole. Now he was neither.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I never wanted to do this to you." She felt a tear slip down her face before she wiped it away, leaving only a small shiny trail by the corner of her eye. "I never wanted this. I just thought it was my only option, our only option. I did what I thought was needed. I didn't think about anybody's feelings, including my own and especially not yours. I just wish we could go back to before. I wish it would all go away." Opening her eyes she found herself staring into his, conflicting emotions battling within them. It unsettled her that she couldn't really get a read on him tonight.

"We can't. Not totally. There are still so many questions. There are too many things wedged between us. I don't know if I can do it again. Give you my heart and hope that you give me yours. I don't know if I can trust you with it." Out of everything that had been said between them, their fights and their lowest moments, that hurt the most. She also knew that it was completely true.

"Ask me." She took a long gulp of her wine before setting it back on the table while he continued to twirl his glass.

"What?" She could tell that he hadn't expected this. He'd expected her to leave it at that and move on like she normally did. Not this time.

"Ask me anything you need to know. You have a right to know about it." She shifted in the chair, preparing herself for what were about to be hard questions. He wasn't going to let her off easy, she knew.

"When did you find out about your dad?" He seemed hesitant. She could tell he was starting out with what his heart had deemed the easiest questions to deal with, ones that wouldn't cause him very much pain. The questions her answers didn't matter all that much for.

"The night I left you. I got home from my run and the hospital called me." Her heart constricted and she fought hard not to be dragged back to that night by her memories.

"How did you find Will?" Moving into deeper waters, huh?

"I called him." She could tell he was surprised by the way his head snapped up, but his face showed nothing.

"You still had his number after all these years?" It wasn't accusing or disbelieving, merely curious.

"No, I saw him earlier that day. I ran into him when I was out running and he gave me his card, told me to call him. I told him I wouldn't." She felt like she had to include that last part. He had to know that she'd never planned on any of this. She'd never planned on bringing Will back into her life at all.

"Why? Why'd you call him?" She looked behind him and into her kitchen, not knowing how to look at him and answer that question without her heart breaking completely.

"Rick, are you sure you want–"

"I want to know." He was determined. And she had told him to ask her anything.

"Okay." She nodded and swallowed hard. "I wanted someone that took what I gave them and didn't ask for more. Will never pushed, he didn't get by my walls and he never quite realized that there was more beyond them. But mostly, I wanted to convince myself that I could be without you. I needed to prove to myself that I didn't need you." She was still looking into her kitchen, eyes fixed on the bottle of olive oil sitting on her counter. She heard him settle back into the cushions of the couch, weighed down by newfound knowledge. There was more silence and no more eye contact. After a few minutes, he spoke again.

"Did you…did you really love me?" The words were barely a whisper, so hesitant and soft that she wondered if she'd really heard them at all.

"Yes, I did. I do. Please, never doubt that." Her answer was just as quiet as his but it held much more conviction. Of all things, he couldn't doubt that. Not when it was based in so much truth. She loved him. It was a fact that she'd come to accept. She loved him, loved him so goddamn much that she was sure that it wasn't normal. That was just her reality.

"I don't think we can bounce back from this." Her eyes slammed shut as her breathing quickened. She had been waiting for this, for the moment he told her it was over and walked out the door. The jacket he was holding and the wine he'd just set back on the table could only keep him here for so long. But what hurt the most was the realization that he was right. "But I don't want to walk away."

"Neither do I. Frankly, I don't think I can." Her voice had that choked quality she'd been trying to avoid all night, tears that she refused to let fall brimming in her still closed eyes.

"I can't let you in. But I don't want you to go." She opened her eyes as another more welcome realization stuck her. There was middle ground. It wasn't all or nothing.

"We could be friends." He raised his eyebrows at her and seemed to mull the idea over as it if it was a foreign concept.

"Friends." The first time he said it as if he was learning a new word. "Friends." The second was an agreement; a sign that he thought the new idea was the best solution to their mess.

"It's all we can give each other." Their sad truth hung limply between them.

"Friends." He said again, this time standing up and holding out her jacket.

"Friends." She nodded as she took it from him and glanced at the empty wine glasses. The jacket had been returned. The wine had run out. There wasn't a reason for him to stay any longer. And so he left.

* * *

**The next and final chapter will be up either tomorrow or Thursday.**

**Review, my lovelies? Pretty please?**


	25. Free

She heard scrambling behind the door as she knocked and it was only a few moments later when a very cheerful Alexis opened the door and beckoned her in. The smile on the teen's face was the perfect greeting after spending the day with calculating killers and their apathetically cold eyes. The eyes of a murderer and the eyes of the girl in front of her were polar opposites; one was emotionless where the other was bursting with that mix of pure innocence and joy she loved so much. She found herself grinning right back at Alexis.

"Hey, Kate! You ready for this?" The hesitance that had been a constant in the girl's voice was a distant memory now. There was only a small hint of it. And, really, that's only if she was looking hard for it.

"You kidding me? I've been looking forward to this all week." And she had. Ever since Alexis had invited her over for their little marathon she'd been using the event as a way of getting through the week without bashing her head against a wall.

"Good. Me too. It's so hard to find someone who likes the show. Not even Grams will watch it with me!" They made their way over to the couch, plopping down and sinking into the cushions.

"But Gilmore Girls is a classic!" Kate threw her hands up in the air, the gesture perfectly matching the affronted look on her face.

"Dad and Grams just aren't cultured like us." Alexis leaned forward and plucked a pretzel out of one of the many bowls the redhead must have set out before she got here. Pretzels, popcorn, cherries, cookies, grapes and various kinds of candy – they sure weren't going to be wanting for snacks. She followed the girl's lead and took a piece of popcorn, popping it into her mouth and chewing slowly before winking at Alexis.

"Not everyone can appreciate the finer things in life, I guess." Alexis nodded and then pressed play, letting the fictional small town and the lives of its occupants swallow them up.

She wasn't quite sure how they'd ended up in this position, but Alexis' head had somehow come to rest on her chest and her arm had wrapped around the girl of its own accord. She liked the feeling. She liked it a lot. And as the fourth episode in their marathon came to an end she realized that they'd been in this position for hours now. A companionable silence settled over them, neither of them bothering to reach for the remote in order to start the next episode.

"That has to be one of my favorite episodes in the entire series." Alexis eventually broke the silence, though she didn't move from her position sprawled across Kate's chest in order to get the remote.

"Mmm." She started running a hand through Alexis' hair and let the noncommittal sound escape her lips. "Anything new lately?"

"Nope, nothing since you were here last week. Or since we talked on Thursday." She sighed exaggeratedly and faked a pout.

"God, your life is so _boring_. I spend my days filling out monotonous paperwork and dealing with the worst of society and when I'm craving some dish this is all you have? Pathetic." She looked down at the young redhead and smiled just to let her know she was kidding. As if the playful tone wasn't enough. Still, she found herself tiptoeing around the Castles sometimes, not wanting to mess anything up.

"Sorry to disappoint you with my uneventful winter break. Maybe you should just find another teenager to get the latest gossip from." Alexis poked her and laughed, resting her fiery head back on Kate's chest.

"Eh, the market's pretty slow these days when it comes to teenagers that are both unbelievably smart _and _hilarious. Guess I'm stuck with you for now." She felt Alexis smile and couldn't suppress one of her own.

"Poor you." She turned her head at the sound of the locks turning just in time to see Rick come sauntering through the door, grocery bags hanging from every conceivable place. "Hey, wanna torture him a little bit?"

"Oh, you know it." She was glad that he was too busy groping around for somewhere to dump his mess of groceries to notice the matching wicked smiles on their faces.

"C'mon, Kate. Let's go upstairs where _some people_ can't hear us so I can fill you in on all of the newest gossip." Alexis said the words much too loudly to be discreet and she followed suit.

"Alright, but I expect all of the salacious details." She winked at Alexis and saw Rick's curiosity peak from the corner of her eye.

"Would you expect anything less from me?" And with that, Alexis dragged her upstairs as Rick began to protest vehemently and wobble with what was left of his bags. She heard his distinctive whine before Alexis closed her bedroom door loudly, effectively torturing him further.

"Oh, that's so gonna eat away at him for the next week at least." Alexis laughed and Kate couldn't help but join in. Torturing Rick was a bit of a pastime for the both of them. She'd tell him later tonight that it was nothing to worry about though. While she enjoyed watching him squirm, she didn't want his overactive imagination conjuring up images that he really didn't need to worry about.

"I wish he didn't worry so much though. I'm not a little girl anymore and sometimes I don't think he gets that." Alexis plopped on the bed, her brow furrowed and her gaze on her feet.

"He loves you, Alexis." She sat down next to the girl and Alexis turned to look at her. "He knows that you're growing up and need to spread your wings, but there's a big part of him that doesn't want to let go. He just wants to protect you, little girl or not." The teen stretched out on the bed, her teeth worrying her thumbnail.

"I know, I know. But he can be a bit much. He gets overprotective, you know?" Oh, she knew. She'd witnessed a lot of his worrying and had to calm him down a countless amount of times. But she also knew why he acted that way. Alexis was his world.

"Your father has a lot of love and very few people to give it to. You're bound to get a little extra once in a while." She reached over and smoothed Alexis' hair out of her face. "Sometimes I can't believe the amount of love he has to give."

"Mmm, he chooses the people he gives it to very carefully. Me, Grams, you – oh, don't look at me like that. He loves you and you know it." She did. And she was sure that the look on her face confirmed it. The redhead sat up and stared at her for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Do you love him?"

"What?" She knew what Alexis was asking. She knew what the answer was. She was just surprised by the teen's bluntness.

"Do you love my dad?" The girl leaned forward and raised her eyebrows slightly, expecting an answer.

"Yes." She did. Always would. With all her heart. With everything she had. It was an inescapable truth, one that had bound her to him from the very beginning. And she was sure all of that came across in her voice.

"But you're not together." She sensed that Alexis meant for that to come out as a question, but it sounded far more like a statement.

"No."

"Why?" Love doesn't always guarantee a happy ending. Love tears people apart as much as it binds them to each other. Love can hurt you just as it can heal you. Love doesn't conquer all.

"I'm happy to be in his life – in _your_ lives – however he'll have me." She could tell Alexis didn't understand. And she was glad for that, glad that innocence and the belief in happily ever after were still intact within the girl.

"So you're two people who are hopelessly in love but decided to remain friends rather than be happy. Why torture yourselves that way?"

[][][]

He waited on baited breath for Kate's answer. He hadn't planned on spying on two of his favorite women, hadn't come up here to eavesdrop. He only wanted to know if they wanted any of the chicken he was planning on making. But then he'd heard Alexis' question and his curiosity started to burn.

They'd never talked about it. They'd never discussed the whys of it all. She had just suggested that they be friends and he'd agreed. Simple as that. No more painful discussions and no more blurred lines between them. Except the lines were still blurred. There was still that something more lurking in the shadows.

Sure, they were friends. But they both wanted to be so much more. He didn't want to pretend that she hadn't smelled of ocean and sunrise when he'd first kissed her, that he didn't know the exact number of gold flecks in her eyes, or that he hadn't found that her feet were extremely ticklish.

Whatever the reason was, the fear of changing everything again or the need to stay in the safe zone they'd so carefully laid out, they didn't talk about it again. They'd said they were going to be friends, so friends they would be. She had dinner at the loft sometimes. They went out for drinks when she needed a break after a tough case. They watched old movies on her couch when neither of them could sleep.

But they couldn't pretend that nothing had changed between them. It just wasn't possible to forget all that they had been to each other, all that they still were. And so he steered clear of sexual innuendo and teasing comments. She agreed a little too readily, much more willing to give in rather than dig her heels into the ground and cling to stubbornness. They both attempted to make it a little easier on the other.

But instead they just made the fact that a couple pieces to their puzzle were missing that much clearer. Pieces that were just out of reach, close enough to see but too far away to make a grab for. All they needed to do was jump, lock hands and make that leap. But they were stuck in the very same position they had been in years before. Though their reasons were a little different this time, it all came down to fear just as it had then. Fear, it seemed, would always be their greatest enemy.

A silly little thing like being afraid was his only reason for not being with Kate like he wanted to be. He was scared. Fear had seeped into his life and left doubts where trust should be. That was why he'd agreed to be friends and nothing more. He hoped that Kate had more of a reason for suggesting it in the first place. Otherwise they were both cowards. But he'd never asked. And this was probably going to be his only opportunity to find out. And so when her answer finally came, he leaned heavily against the wall and slammed his eyes shut.

"I don't know, Alexis. I guess I'm just too scared of breaking again to try and heal completely."

[][][]

She turned her head to watch the many children running around on the playground, their musical laughter making her own smile come out of hiding. It was warm today and the last of the snow had melted, making it a perfect day for the park. Or that's what Rick had said. Apparently, a lot of people agreed with him. Families played happily in the grass as couples strolled by, oblivious to the world around them.

"See, everybody knows it's a good day for the park." He bumped her shoulder with his as they walked. She didn't answer him, just flashed him a smile and bumped him back. That was all the answer he needed.

"You know, I really miss the swings." She turned her eyes on him then, silently asking him to elaborate. "I used to come here a lot with Alexis. The swings were her favorite but she refused to have anyone push her. She wanted to do it on her own. So I would just swing with her, occasionally giving her pointers. And when we were swinging I just, well, I felt free." She smiled at him and laced her arm through his, looking back at the playground before responding.

"I miss that, too."

"You know, I'd totally suggest that we go over there but I don't want to fight for the swings. Little kids can be quite ferocious." She laughed at that, full-bodied and deep and _free_. She did that a lot more these days.

"Yeah, wouldn't want you to damage that pretty little face of yours." She reached up and patted his cheek as he smirked at her.

"So you admit that my face is attractive?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and she did the same. It had been a while since they'd agreed on being friends and he'd just started teasing her again. Surprisingly, she'd been unbelievably happy when he'd started again.

"Well, it's obviously not any form of talent that sells your books." His sly smirk quickly turned into a pout and she chuckled at him. He walked right into that one.

"Oof, that one hurt." He put a hand to his heart and feigned pain masterfully. She'd have to thank Martha one day for giving him his flair for the dramatic.

"You've gotten through worse." They both turned as a little girl squealed in both excitement and fear as she jumped off of the swings, landing safely in the sand a moment later and exclaiming quite loudly that she wanted to do it again. They both smiled at the scene.

"Oh, to be fearless again." His knuckles brushed hers before he continued. "Kids may be afraid of the dark and monsters hiding in their closet, but they don't shy away from adventure. They jump off of swings and climb way too high." He looked at her and she couldn't help but gasp at what she saw in his gaze. She hadn't seen that particular emotion there in so long. "They welcome love and friendship, let it overpower them. They don't doubt or question. They just dive in." She hadn't realized that they'd stopped walking, or that they'd turned to face each other. She didn't notice the pigeon by her feet or the delighted screams of children behind her.

"But then you grow up." She let out a sad smile as she said the words. Their eyes were still locked, emotions that had been bottled up for too long running free.

"True, but I think we can still be free like that if we want to be." She cocked her head at him. That wasn't the answer she'd expected from him. Nonetheless, it peaked her curiosity.

"How?" Her voice was a whisper now, as if he were sharing a treasured secret with her. And maybe he was. Maybe these hushed words were only for her ears. All she knew was that she hoped this was it, that this was the moment they took their second chance.

"You just have to trust."

And then his lips were on hers in a soft caress that spoke of truth and trust and sweet_ finally_. She wasn't sure how long it lasted or when exactly her arms had wrapped around his neck and his hands had come to rest on her waist, but she found that she was more than fine with all of it. Neither deepened the kiss but it was sweet and passionate and breathtaking and filled with all of the emotions that had remained boxed up for far too long now. It was _I forgive you_, _I need you_ and _I love you_ all rolled into one. But most of all, it was _I trust you_.

When they pulled away, they wore matching grins. Resting her forehead against his, she breathed him in. She'd missed this. She'd missed him.

"I want to be free." She whispered against his lips before pressing a quick kiss there. He just smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in a way she hadn't seen for a while now.

"We are." She smiled again as he looked down at her, the look in his eyes making her believe in magic and fate. And them.

_Fin_

* * *

**So Kamikaze is finally finished. I must say, it's been quite the ride. For me and, I'm sure, for all of the wonderful people who have stuck with this story until the end. I just want to thank all of you for your support, reviews and just for reading. It really means a lot that you stuck with it through all of the angst, the tears, and the writer's block. Thank you so much, dear readers. **

**Review? For old time's sake? Leave me something to remember you by? **


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